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The angels' harps play a sacred tune,
while planets dance around the moon;
In subtle strains our spirits rise,
and leave us grateful and starry-eyed.

Recalling life as it once seemed,
this vision floated inside a dream;
In many days of endless chants,
the angels' harps cause us to dance.

When voices touch each other's hearts,
there's always a sign creating sparks;
And with that strong secure emotion,
then lives connect with pure devotion.

No longer chilled in fears of life,
all folks fly far away from strife;
The added wealth of kinship stands,
as children sing while holding hands.
Ambush in the Sun
Ambush in the Moon
Ambush in the Front
Ambush in the Rare
Roaring-fear rocking fiery skies
As blood cascading torrentially
From the faces of the rough cliffs
But we have sown in tears
On the fertile soil of destiny
Made by the Hand
That rocks the Cradle
Our sacrifices shall speak
In thunder at the portal of glory
Our harvest shall come bountifully
In vindicating glory assurance
Surely rain of glory shall fall in glory
And petals of harvest shall boom
As blooming petals of a glorious dawn
In meadows of eternal splendour.
A profound lyric becomes a powerful wind of steadfast love.
Lifts the hate-filled cloak that has been engulfing humanity.
A new sense of calm and tranquilly descends across the divided society.
wind shuffles
through the long grass

seeded heads
in the percolating afternoon

broiled air
heavy and lethargic
laboriously ascends
its unseen ladder
into the barren sky

Arcady sings
from a place
of unimaginable height

the song
is a whisper
at the precipice

I am the wing
that awaits your breath
to take flight
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