Hands of clay upon the djembe drum
they dance not in vain, but to conceive
sweet melodies which sings inside the rhythm
of hope to heal the heart from the desert of hunger
A young man look at his hand and cogitate
a woman said, why your hand?
Young men replied it is Art.
We played our heart
The passion of art
Crafted by combination
Of skills and zeal
We tasted the salt of our tears
saw the light when the birds craft the nest
saw the wind sweep the leave when June
is shivering in winter.