When were they my Formative Years;
Blown away I clung, I chaffed before strong winds.
Each germ each bit of grit as dusk inside remained to form.
The bread you eat today within I hide, of he whom is I am,
all the answers
are within you
take a breath
In olden days when the banks were full
And the gulfs caressed a gilded moon,
The harvest of the sands would play a tune,
The keepers of the village