I call to Setlocenia of the passing years,
who saw the stirring of the seas, the age of ice
and stone, who watched as nations rose and fell,
as men and women lived their lives and turned to dust.
Ancient one, you hold within the wisdom
of days long done, the tales of those long gone,
each season’s journey of beast and man, over
and over, again and again. Setlocenia,
lady of the sandy shore, the harbor rich and still,
yours are the deep-sunk fortress walls, the footprints
of those who found their fortune or lost their all;
O goddess great and wonderful, I honor you.