In the garden of the world There rises up a tribal beat Coming from the dancing feet Of those ancient bodies Dancing and stomping in time In sacred rhythm and rhyme That has always existed As a deep felt vibration Through the earth’s foundation Up into the bodies of its children Those eternal world people Singing praise at the steeple Of the dark skies of heaven Repeating mantras of superstition Passed down through oral tradition That protects them from dark effects That they know lie just beyond the shadow
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Musing & Creating with T.J.S. Sherman 