Flow Tide of the Native Souls
Heaven fading like a memory,
gone into the ancient tomes.
Placed upon the human shelves,
dusty from neglect.
Love enslaved to broken vows,
rebirth the anguish child.
I learned to live,
I forgot death.
Wintry mother came into my body,
crystal tears fell into the river of mankind.
Taking a reprieve from a hectic existence,
drinking from a clay cup.
From dreams in my sleep,
they beer sorrow but love is the result of these trials.
Wind cleanses my filthy spirit,
gentile Gods harvests the newborn wheat.
Trickles of water fill the rivers of mercy,
take my hand,
my beautiful angel-child.
Walk with me along the beaches of our ancestors,
let us love them again.
Morning sunlight purifies the grievance of those who walk in the dark.
Coming from the north,
ghosts carry grief as luggage.
A forgotten song that died across the battlefield in
Weeping now,
ever silent are my people to society.
Cold awakening in our eyes,
suffrage in strong hearts.
This is the flow tide of native souls.
