.
WHEN HOPE IS GONE, HOPE IS ALL THERE IS
 

insidious guilt

bucking horses, throwing riders

dislodging friends

covering all bases

seeking everlasting power

creating fears

with secret codes

devouring beings seeking human

the 4,000 year reign is ending

lightning bolts bend boomerangs

yin is the new drummer

music fresh new ears

songs, new writers
 
 

this dance will not be fox trot or square

nor circle, nor line, nor hoe-down

it will be these and more

flowers come off the wall and dance

feet bare, the sand cool and damp

grasses tall and green

mountain tops sparkling with new fallen snow

air will be sweet meadow fresh

when the children dance
 
 

- Sam Hill

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to Moongate