In the ancient ages of our story,
Long lost on the storm-tossed sea of time,
Mystics, Shamen, Seers, Poets, and Prophets
Pointed to paths leading to survival,
Vital roads for our guides to find.
Lo, our progress came through
The purge of many perils.
In the grip of that troubled existence,
Our visionaries found the way forth
From a plague of deadly terrors.

Born out of the feverish tumult of the mystic Wild-man
Or the symbolic song of a Tribal Priestess,
Came words of hope and vision.
Their inner-light was a primordial premonition, stoking
The courage to make our daunting decisions.
Their mind’s eye pierced the veil, striking
Lightning catalysts into a forest of fascination,
To ignite the strength we must bring to fruition!

We clung to their words as we clung to each other,
And heard their call to mission.
We allowed the signs of their ecstasy to gestate
Within our souls; words woven into myths
To bear the fruit of immortal imagination!
Out of this flame came the hard-won wisdom of our people,
Our embryonic culture, and the seeds of our salvation.

We traveled on in the grip of a darkened world and
Survived together, confirmed by a shared oath.
The tree of humanity’s fragile hope must take root,
To fulfill its future growth.

We are an Ark-people, a covenant people,
A people of deep foundations.
We take that light, that fire, and
That power into our destiny,
Striking wild and true within!

May the ineffable Creator bless our steps,
Secure our path, inspire our faith,
And anoint our hearts for the road ahead,
Beyond…