Sacred Poem by Lyre Bleus

What is it that I hold sacred?
Why is it that I hold it sacred?
But legends and myths
Of faraway desert nomads

What is it that I hold sacred
Why is it that I hold it sacred
All those tall tales with a dread
Of hell’s fires when I’m dead

of warrior shepherds and gods blood thirsty
Of their lineage and their ancestry
Of their bloody wars and their treachery
Of genocide and their infamy

From a place and time irrelevant
To my moment in my environment
above my ancestors deeds and words
passed down with chants and chords

Of what am I am ashamed
For why am I ashamed
Of the black magician and headhunters
Of the rain makers and masked fire dancers
Of a garden left to me by the great *Masalai
With each and everything with its own guardian *Masalai?


Note: Masalai is pidgin for *spirit or spirit beings or angels....