I hear the soft thrum

the pulse of the drum

far - far in the distance

- - spurring us on -

 

- louder now louder

a thunderous sound

demanding - insistant

vibrating the ground

 

beating out the old rhythams

-  -  turning us round - -

 

- - drawing ever nearer

controlling our minds

hearts beat to the rhythms

drums beat across time

an emerging of nations

-  -  -  a defining of lines

 

drums talk their own language

evolved before words

they tell of our Warlords

who's warriors were led

by the dancers and drummers

with their dance of the dead

 

now we dance to the drumming

raising dust with our feet

and talk with our friends

as we meet in the street

 

but the rhythm grows fainter

 

                       drums slow in retreat

 

                                         as un-rembered memories

 

                                                             return to their sleep.