Poem-Voices of the Past
- Voices of the Past
Down the history of ages, the centuries have filled pages,
of the druids who sing and chant their daily song.
Through the passages of time, the bells echo their chime,
as the base-bell beats out a hefty dong.
From the clouds up above, comes the sound of mother love,
as she sees all the things that people do.
People would be kind, if they read each other's mind;
the millennium starts things off anew.
How are we to know that the right way is to go,
along the pathway that Mother Nature led us to?
The world is a place, with thoughts behind the face,
of the druid who's looking what to do.
In the wilderness of time, the forest still sings out,
the tunes of yesterday's world.
The cold wind brings the dancing snow,
as the vortex reveals its twirl.
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