New World.

This is what you call the land of falling waters, the land of my people.

But your world

Tall cities, stone streets, telescopes, lonely moors

Words falling out of the mouth and into a stick that draws on white leaves,

Making a stain

Deer heads mounted on walls, eyes staring

A king tucked away in a palace, guarded from his people

This to me is like

A whole new universe.