The mystical drum of a Native tribe
Raw emotion timed to ancient beats
Touches my anxious soul that’s alive
Rocking me quietly to sleep
The chirping insects of basic life
Making their way in spite of the strife

Fighting change, holding onto the past
Steals our sense of adventure
Our comfort zone quiets the laugh
Discovering nothing is life’s censure
A fate worse than prohibiting words that are fowl
A cry for a freedom misunderstood if allowed

Thoughts running wild are tamed not by words
But musical instruments and nighttime chants are strong
Not long-winded prayers or speeches I’ve learned
But the West looks East in the break before dawn
Down on knees or standing tall
The Jesus Prayer is the secret weapon for all