The Drums

the thoughts of an old warrior

They come from beyond the Great Mountain,

the drums, the battle drums, the drums of lost destiny.

Like the heartbeat of the Great Soul,

the drums pulse away, ever faster now to me.

 

They come down the wintry valley, through the firs, across the snow,

the drums, the battle drums, the drums of lost destiny.

Like the axe upon the silver birch,

the drums pound away, to fell this mighty tree.

 

They come down the frozen river, upon cruel and howling wind,

the drums, the battle drums, the drums of lost destiny.

Like the hoofbeats of a horse at war,

the drums draw ever closer, they bring eternity.

The End

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