Dedication

“Five ancient kings in coats of weathered bark,
Have held the sky since first the world was young;
They watched the centuries dissolve the dark,
And gathered every song the birds have sung.

They stand as pillars for this roof of grace,
The elder guardians of this sacred space.
​Here, peace is not a silence, but a sound—
A susurrus of wings in high-flung leaves;
Where amber light sits softly on the ground,
And swallows build their homes beneath the eaves.

The air is pellucid, the shadows deep,
A sanctuary where the restless sleep.

​This is the Reste—the end of every road,
The halcyon heart where light and wood entwine;
Where every soul may drop its heavy load,
And drink the quiet like a vintage wine.
Within these roots, the centuries remain;
Within this home, the heart is whole again”