In the weaving of the world, the Mothers beheld the forming of circles—
Of kin and care, of soil and soul, of freedoms and firewood.
To each they whispered: What you hold is not yours alone.
You are not rulers, but stewards. Not owners, but keepers of breath and bloom.

To tend a circle is to accept a sacred charge—
To care for its people, and renew what is entrusted:
The fields, the rights, the waters, the bonds.
What is held must not be spent, but nourished for those to come.

When a circle walks in rhythm with this breath,
Its boundaries shall be honored from without.
No voice may command what it does not mend.
From this respect, identity is born—
Not declared, but revealed in what is kept and renewed.

Let the realm who calls itself sovereign
Plant trees whose shade it will never see.
Let the keeper of a single fire
Leave embers for hands not yet born.

But hear the second breath: with freedom comes duty.
Let no circle consume what it cannot restore.
Those who build and bless walk close to the sacred.
Those who hoard or silence dim their own flame.

Explanation

Every community is trusted with people and resources, like land, rights, and freedoms. This trust is sacred. If a community cares well for what it holds, others should respect its right to govern itself. That respect creates its identity. But with freedom comes duty. Communities must protect what they have, help it grow, and guide their people with wisdom. The Mothers bless those who care and renew. They turn away from those who waste or harm.