Our Song
By Astarte
Waves drum the shore
Overgrown and primitive.
Breezes strum the reeds
Thin and yielding.
Earth's children gather
On water, air, and soil
To dance to her music
To sing her song.
A song of wisdom
Of times forgotten.
A song of hope
Of times to come.
The song is a mother's gift.
A gift to all her children.
When confusion reigns,
It will soothe and comfort.
In times of uncertainty,
It will teach and counsel.
Many hear but do not listen.
It is ours, our mother's gift.
A song of wisdom
Of times forgotten.
A song of hope
Of times to come.
