The leaves fall
upon the heart of Middle Earth
touching that place
where intricate twilight
weaves into the day
the reason for creation

The tapestry of Elven song,
arcing out from mindful longing,
calls us to the halls
where memory aches
to sing every crystal note
as pure

My lips move
with sounds that are familiar,
with sounds that
jewel my breath
and focus all intent
upon the Arda of my Soul

The leaves will rustle
when I sing of Eldamar!
and in the Autumn
there will be a union
which no blade forged or jewel plundered
will cruelly sever

When we fall
beneath the stars
seeking Earth to give us Heaven
and embrace
our succulent forever in Winter's sleep,
the Havens will appear
through mist and sorrow
to take us Home;
The Havens for us all
repeal the night
and point us westward
to the cleaving of our Souls

- by Arnartariën