It will come to me
It will come to me.
Like blades of grass flowing through a distant breeze,
I taste the cherry summer,
moisten my chapped lips.
I am a tribal chief pounding on a drum.
I burst alive in song,
my body full of nature.
The spirit of the egret
rests inside my soul,
its wispy, gentle wings
enable me to soar.
I am steadfast
to my core.
I step into the paw prints
of those who walked before me.
The leaves rain down upon me.
This earth,
it swallows me.
I hear the distant voices of the gods.
They breathe in my reality.
I pound together stones.
And in the darkened night,
after thirty tries,
I create sparks of light.
In the gentle dusk,
I hear those tender words.
I trust within my soul.
I am united to my core.
It will come to me,
It will come to me,
It will come to me.