Birds sit on yonder branch
with clarion song.
They call to awaken
those lying in nights slumber.
They shout to bring feet to rise
and dance in day.

Birds they be gift to ears
that breathe in fledgling sound.
The gift that echoes causing self to sing too,  
and vibrate inside the celebration of life.

When the cloud drums sound
Piercing silence aloud
Booming minstrel singing in the collective song of time
Once again then I
Not in Eru Ilúvatar
But in the clarion voice of Christ
Be found

We are all one in song alike
We are all one