Tale of the Old Sunlight, Drumbeats and Rhythm

TALE OF THE OLD SUNLIGHT 

The old sunlight left men in awe and wonder,
It kept at bay the spirits that troubled during the day,  
Those who played with minds and disrupted its tranquil flow,  
Those that cocooned the soul’s glow. 

I was told a tale of the old sunlight,  
How it blessed the labour of men,  
Even the crafts of women, 
It was the benevolent glory of the land.

I was told a tale of how we wearied this sunlight,
We toxified its abode,  
We threw dirt on its road till
It emerged from its chamber to meet our mess.

Though we didn’t hinder its ascent and descent,  
We retreated its amiable hand,  
Brought trouble to the sky and land,  
And so we wallow in the mire.
 
This was a tale I was told,  
By the wise and the bold,  
Those whose voices pierce the darkness,  
Those by whose feet I long to sit.

DRUMBEATS AND RHYTHMS

The beating of the drums,
Songs arise from the depth of the soul,
Summoning of the spirits,
It’s the end of the year.
 
The beating of the drums,
Produces rhythms that transcend and bring forth a descent,
Soon the twelfth door will close,
We’re oblivious to the next twelve that approach.

The beating of the drums,
River of songs flow to the room where the seers dwell,
Their bodies are with us but their souls commune with the Highest,
To bring the tidings for our abiding. 

The beating of the drums,
Our souls seek redemption,
Darkness has trailed us,
Gloom stands at our doors. 

The melody pierces through the Stygian veil,
There’s an ascent from the Light,
The seers are drenched in an outpouring,
We listen to understand, to withstand and to sojourn.