A child speaks the language of old.
A child knows a lie.
When you remember a story told.
You remember memory's that were hidden inside.
The voices on the air.
The beating of a distant drum.
You heard the spirits in their song.
You were to help your people become strong.
Knowing the language of the ancients.
Knowing the spirit with in each person.
Finding the truth of your purpose.
Finding where you belong.
Helping others on their journey.
But lost forever is your gift.
No longer yours to posses.
It is lost forever with in a hidden mist.
Author notes
Written July 11th, 2006
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I really don't know where you come up with this stuff.. it is always so different.. you never do the same thing twice.. great write.. keep it up and be happy girl.! love ya
Justine
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