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Charcoal black tip of arrowhead,
among these ancient, stones - stained red
Heartbeats share rhythms of ghostly drums..
Winds carry haunting, chanting hums
I feel your blood, flow here with mine,
outlasting, even decaying time
I've been told the stories, told to you,
I know we're just spirits, passing through
When thunder, shakes awake the night,
I vision warriors by firelight
Their voices echo, around mountain's soul,
while moon and stars watch us below
Respect the sky, and mother earth,
borrow the beauty, from time of birth
Then give in death peacefully
yourself, to rest eternally
Among these ancient, stones - stained red,
my mirror reflects traces, of those long...........
Copyright © Donna Jones | Year Posted 2013