The sound extends the circle wide,
Draws the dancing souls inside,
Gathers strength, ignites the tribe,
Quickens feet and sooths the mind,
So that thoughts take flight and leap
In silent prayer or kindly greeting.
Like the rambling waters flowing,
Like leaves of trees and breezes blowing,
A current carries dust and jewels
To anoint the dirty hair of fools,
Thus all are blessed who cup their hands
To grasp and drink this moment’s wine.
If I wander drunk and dazed,
Stomping rhythms, singing praise,
The moths may fold their wings in prayer
and linger, trembling in my hair,
For I exchanged my mask for light
And mingled my voice with the song of the tribe.
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