Indigo Children
Count the days as they have passed,
aging in the looking glass,
string the tree with colored lights,
another Christmas burning bright.
Heirloom ornaments handed down,
pieces of the past are bound,
try to pass the history on,
memories like a mournful song.
Welsh and Celtic is our blood,
through our history memories flood,
dream the dreams in ancient tongues,
fluently the lyrics sung.
Indigo children we have bourne,
though the past they do not mourn,
their eyes and spirits are so clear,
they face the future without fear.
They who see more than we can,
advance the souls of mortal man,
for twenty-twelve is the date,
set by Mayans for our fate.
It's said the veil is growing thin,
a new dimension will begin,
these children called the Indigo blue,
may save the souls of me and you.
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