A mirror ripples, dawn breaks over the sea.
In a tree overlooking a hill, sits a boy, watching the days go bye,
Watching as people grow and die,
Watching as the seasons fly.
Reds on the horizon and all over the ground,
He watches as men go down, go down.
A new day is coming, a clashing of swords
And more men die as the seasons fly.
Another season over, another year gone by
And as he is sitting in his tree, a bird flutters down to rest on his knee.
He pets its green feathers, as soft as down,
And watches as leaves flutter to the ground.
More men come and go, the days become colder with nothing to show.
A harvest moon rises as of grown from the ground.
Little by little the sea becomes brown, crashing and toiling in circles abound.
As the world freezes and snows on the ground, the boy still sits, patiently waiting,
The bird long since flown away, borne free with wings,
Wings even the forgotten boy envies.
Now wind is dancing, snow is melting.
Children come to gather, waiting for night,
Where stars twinkling and blinking, shoot across the sky,

The moon no more than a crescent.
Another season gone, the next one dawning.
Flowers bloom under his tree, leaves begin to blossom.
The white has gone away for now, and green is welcomed back.
Watching still, the boy cannot help but wonder,
Will I be free when the next season rises?

Like the birds, wind, and sky?

Like the people who are born and die?
Slowly, spring fades into summer.

The sun is warm and welcoming, the world buzzing with sound, colour and life
But the boy is gone from his tree; a girl has taken his hand
And he is being led into a light, smiling for the first time the tree can remember.
Farewell.