Seventy years since the sages woke to a world that choked and with distant hope through the rising smoke danced naked in the rain to the drums of revolution.
Sixty years since the sages spoke and they didn’t choke on the fire-words even when provoked as they called their kin to a time of evolution.
Fifty years since the sages wept in the caves they slept amongst the burning trees and the dying bees with blistered knees from the wars of separation.
Three years since the sages woke from sleepy lives to opening eyes now sterilised with heavy lids and fear filled kids to the horns of occupation.
Two years since the sages spoke and through tears they choked Now they breathed smoke Now they roared hope and with straightening spines and rising fines they called for sovereign nation.
One year since the sages rose and still they grow and still soul flows the ancient knows and the deep heart glows and the great winds blow and wild roots sink into the earth below
and with a rising hope through the clearing smoke they dance naked in the rain to the drums of restitution.
~ Matthew Liam Gardner
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