"Prophecy of Restoration" by Elizabeth Wilcox

The forest waits for one like you-
Full of fancies, wondering heart-
One who stands still, strong and true,
Holding to the ancient Art.

Long has it stood patient, waiting;
Where have all the wanderers gone?
There was, once, a thirst-full yearning,
Now the power dims and wans.

Trees hold memories and sorrows,
Cares and joys like autumn's leaves-
Soon they crumble, dust tomorrow,
But today their brightness sings.

Magic still abides in silence,
Though long ago it's caretakers
Left it with a grief intense-
Gone now are the myst'ry makers.

Will the tale ever be told?
Will the song ever be sung?
Of the mystics, the spell-weavers
The laughter of the golden ones?

Now a hush holds the forest
Where once gay, bright songs abode
No more healers' simmering possets-
No more wisdom from the old.

One mistake, one creation
Drastically wrong and ill
Felled a curse upon the nation
That harnessed the heaven's will.

Magic makers now are legend-
Stories for the young at heart-
Secluded, hunted to their live's end
Are those left who know the Art.

Time can never erase sorrow,
Day can never outlast dark-
The time will come, maybe tomorrow,
When the Craft returns, but stark. . .

This I swear, I prophesy,
Never shall healing be done
Wisdom nowhere under sky,
Above the earth, beneath the sun. . .

When Mages learning is restored
And magic wielded one more,
Then a time for wild grief-
For naught but pain shall be in store.

Bitter shall the magic be-
Sour with age and deep remorse-
Hate is all the world shall see,
If things now shall run their course.

Heed me not, and all shall fail;
Save not memory of those days
When the gladness of the Golden
Brightened earth with cherished ways.

Evil haunts the wicked tale
Of their downfall,
So take care. . .
Lest fate be entwined with their fall,
And their curse fades not with years.

So, if you are of right mind-
Heed the forest's welcome call.
Follow it to depthless mysteries,
And learn, grow, protect us all. . .