Pride

Pride

Like drift wood cast upon the land,
unused, unfit for use
We coalesce, misunderstand,
a nature, cold... obtuse

Fragile, flung upon the shores,
washed up on the banks
Drying, lighter than before,
lost, tighter in our ranks

Lost amidst a foreign realm,
where butterflies hold court
Moths so easily overwhelmed,
when light is all they sought

A star thought close, now out of reach
... a light to disregard
Lattice wings ground on the beach,
as storms, they pick up hard

Winds thrash wild through the night,
scattering the bones
The runes we clutch with which we scry,
dashed calcium on stones

Bones that drift, they still reknit,
as muscle, sinew heals
Realms beyond our own remit,
a substance nature steals

A wholeness lost, discarded drawn,
left scattered cross the land
Barren, sun bleached, wind ripped, torn,
reborn unto the sand

Reshaped to fit a landscape stark,
repurposed for the ride
Storms run silent in the dark,
she rages on outside

Ciara rages though the black,
trains of thought, off course
Difficult to keep on track,
pulled so far from our source

Carriages gunned back and forth,
driftwood pinned and railed
Still eying stars up to the north
... stars we think we've failed

Fallen in a final stand,
scattered, lost and drained
Repurposed for a different land,
reshaped to take the strain

Restructured for a unique cause,
our driftwood will take shapes
First we have to break... take pause,
the barrels we must scrape

Rock bottom is where driftwood's made,
it's where it all resides
It's where our souls are carved displayed,
resculptured... shaped with pride

Wear that shape for all it's worth,
wear it as your own
Roar, take back your birthright's earth,
it's yours... and yours alone