I am a feral child
Who grew up secretly in the wild
Wandering the woods and rails
And shunning the wide highways
That surrounded my ground.
Broken, broken from the past
Unattached to the past
Unrelated to the ancestors
Except by barest twisted threads
All our potent symbols and songs
Locked up in copy right prongs
Forbidden in public and fined as well
Frowned upon by Powers
So I am free in silence
I may walk among trees' guidance
And give tongue to song
Among the Alders and Poplars
To what can you assign me?
Yet, They come, They rise and flow
The songs, the tunes, they show
The ancient ones
The ancient ways
Are marked with rays
And subtle glow.
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