Feel the fire,
Its warmth, its glow,
Its light dances with the shadows below.
The yellow,
The red,
Intertwine and grow,
Grow until the sun gives birth
To the glorious morn.

Dawn,
The life,
The start,
The prayer,
The approach of a never ending fear.
A second heartbeat,
A second song,
One fear has brought upon.
Thunder rattles through
A clear blue sky,
Caused not by the welcome buffalo,
But by the clouded men who ride.
Women run with their children,
While the men,
Their husbands and sons
Fight for all that they love.
To live on in their way of life,
Or to be confined in terrible strife,
Dilemmas they face for they who come,
And bitterly face them in the brilliant high light.

Cries of the Braves,
Babes,
Women,
Blazing over the seemingly
Muffled battering of
Thundersticks,
And the clouded men.
Red and clear rivers now flow
Through the dusty lands
Where none had been before.

Hear the drumbeat,
Hear the song,
Feel the heartbeat once beating so strong.
They fought for freedom,
They fought for their land,
They fought for their families,
All that they had.

The brave warriors
Now laid flat on the ground,
Eyes fixated on the horizon.
These warriors
Brave,
Proud,
And strong,
Now letting the final fire dance alone.