We, the sisters and brothers make the cut in friendships and swear blood brothers
deep red is the colour of blood and life itself that flows into our veins from those whom brought us into the world - our mothers
She passes the legacy of bearing life to her daughter
along with the lessons in life that her mother taught her
Many battles are lost for some of us before the wars in our heads are won
"the sins of the father are the sins of the son"
I hold gently the hands of the fallen ones, and shake firmly the strong hands of the heroes that prevail, and of the chosen few
and I embrace the cousins of life and the nieces and nephews too , even as families stand as one in silent prayer in front of a sacred, often empty pew
while into the distance, lonely church bells ring
and blackbirds sing

Sometimes I think I feel the presence of those kings and queens now lying cast in stone
and of the restless spirits of the twilight zone
I've stood on the shoulders of giants
and have seen priests administer last rites
Prevailing, strong feelings of dejavu
take me back to olden days' early morning dew
to secret caves and coves and to distant shores
It sweeps my mind away to wild horses and silken voices in rolling , windswept ancient moors
Throughout the centuries in restless dreams
I've walked alone - not everything is as it seems
Often I've felt alone in here in empathy for the plight of wounded innocents and causes that I hold dear
and because of the nightmares and premonitions that fill me with fear

Throughout the dawn of time, our people, hopes and ideals change all the time
as do the forests and lakes, the villages and towns, and the music and rhyme
but forever and always remains my fascination with the Ancient Ones
and also to history, heritage and family, my heart and soul succumb
I went searching for wisdom, following in their omnipresent footsteps and traveling through their omniscient planes,
sifting feverishly through their dusty remains
as I climbed to the top of the mountains
and drank from the fountains
of life from dusk to dawn
celebrating the ages and sanctity of life, that sometimes I mourn
as I blaze the ancient trails
back to the black hills where the wild wolf and wild winds howl ...even beyond and further more
back to ancient scrolls and tombs
back to where she, the Wild Rose blooms!
and love and hope freely reigns
My heart, soul and spirits soar
and for once I no longer feel so weary and alone, finally I feel completely whole
as I find my roots and feel their essence flow through me, into the core of my soul