Date: 1 1/28/94

 

 

 

 

 

 

Living on the edge of the world

 

 

 

 

Living on the edge of the world where Columbus brought Isabellas dream. Where lantic Oecans pour endless streams and tar onto lofty white beaches and drift into the cove.  Where gigantic lanterns far beyond the surf give up their debris, At the edge of the world so green, still so untouched by human care and nature.  So natural and shy the landscape rolls along untouched by natural disguise.  The pristene flavour of crisp clean air that sweeps aloft into summer breezes flowing into the gentler side of solid green masses freely flowing far in the distance, the natural landscape.

 

Give us back our land or do you wish that we sit upon the tar filled beaches and cry out to heaven for the land?  Should we stay at home and focus more sharply upon the lonely imagery of Ashanti warriors angrily emerging in full dress with spears and shields, emerging from the bushes where they've hid for centuries.  Arising now they protect our generation from the shadows of port holes near and far beside our crystal wall. Do not hide from me the right their passage passed from them to me.  Give us their prize that we might run their race to its end.

 

We've failed in so many ways to see the gleaming side of home.  We all are dusty, failing to provide their bending backs with pride.  We live as well we know but failing in our mark to freely give us that which is of our own.

 

Now to those pinioned upon the rocks of innocense beneath the still perch which cannot move.  We share with them this cup which we will pass, just slightly alive but fresh with thanks unto a master we all know by name.  Lord, open up to us the labour which kept us through the years.  Allow us to sip the coolest water in the evening beneath the great big cedars in the slow and drifting breeze of summer.  Lord, grant us our wish to posess our land.

 

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