High Kings

A voice which rings within me,
causing me to move, with dancing
chords from the banjo of a foreign land.
Oh, to walk on those foreign sands, that my
ancestors knew.

The drums, calling me,
their voices entwined
with my soul.

Singing of Dublin-town.
Songs, in a language,
that my own blood knows.
Drifting between dream and the rolling
hills of a home unknown.

Reviews

[Radad Ibn Nasir]

Innate is your charm and so is your land, i feel it embodied here as if i had just traveled to a place of mystery to me but home to you..the calling is beautiful follow your sound.