Histories’ pages beckon me, in all I read and understand,
to know each moment’s deep beliefs, to feel the ache in my own hand.
What prayers in tongues were cast at dawn while facing glorious east?
What sad laments were sung in chant to forge a sweet release?
What were the wishes cast to nature’s God at passing dusk?
What sacred moments bound in love were passed to generations’ trust?
I long to know, to feel it real, in every moment each waking day.
So I grasp from histories’ pages everything that I can take away.
Sacred land, sacred earth, giving sky, paternal history –
Balanced life through every breath, thankful to the Great Mystery.