Son of the Seasons Edens Bridge

Hail to thee, thou sun of the seasons, thou traversest the skies above.

The herbs are strung on the roots of heaven, 

The stone and gilder of gold. 

Each root and veil and heel and meadow 

Are illumined by your gentle gaze 

and the crest of waves and of embers reflect thine 

endless tears

It is the way of all things

That the cycle flows