Water runs across the street,
And the dirt.
Yet none stop to drink from these streams
are tainted with the color of blood.
The skies are hidden behind clouds,
Yet if the sky could truly be seen
Then they would be as though
a looking glass to the Immortal Realm
For all those we have lost so far.
The ground will forever be the color,
The color of death,
The color of blood,
The color of wine spilled against a background of fresh snow.
The grass on a windy day,
Will have the smell of summer,
but for this period of time
It will smell of bodies long gone.
Into the Immortal Realm,
Hidden by the clouds
On a windy day.
Through times of melted snow,
And hurricanes in the outer reach.
Mountains will move and see forward and into the end.
They have a way of coming home
Whenever the war shall stop and
Families come together once again.
The hills under a million feet
Can feel the world Shift.
It can feel the Earth and all
The children in a blood fest.
They can feel when Mother Earth cries,
And when Mother Earth
feels proud and like a failure.
Feels proud and like a failure.
The people of this time break,
The heart of a dear old woman.
She is Mother to any who Hate,
And are confused.
You can always find a Mother in your Earth.
She whispers her encouragement,
And she whispers her scoldings.
In her eyes do good and stop this war,
between Brothers under our one Mother.