Black tradition
a breath of
freshness
a dance in the market
square
a song for the gods
a union of the
guardians
a rhythm understood
only by greatness
a whisper from the
lips of saints
a word uttered by the
dumb
life in a dance
daydreams turned into
nightmares so we danced like angels
our sacrifice prided
its glory and we sang praises like gods
with our hands we
played the best of harps
with our lips we
played our flutes like never
our hearts filled
with a different vibe
with celebration in
the air we danced in an insane manner
water droplet turned
into rain and the gods washed us of our sins
though the dark
clouds grew even darker
but the purest of our
hearts shined so bright that it poured outwards
total cleansing of our
fathers land
though the day comes
to an end
our virgins pride
themselves as warriors screamed their victory song
children in
celebration of the many blessings bestowed on them
a reconciliation of
gods and his people
never forgetting the
prize paid this is victory...
This is our tradition
the black tradition
and total purity of our souls
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