The mountains do call, the waters do long and yearn, searching the earth and the chasms of the deep, ascending yet to the sun, falling as grace upon my shoulders. The birds do sing, and the trees do breathe and give new breath to men. And the stars that do speak not of another place far off, but of the true destiny of the good, the holy, the mighty from the estrangement from the fate of the bravehearted.