We are children of the morning.

The rain was heavy,  the flood,  knee high.  The battlefield was burning. We were running.

The night came with terror. The battle took our hearts.  We were left quivering, bracing up for our death. And there was dessent in our ranks.

The men, looking into the eyes of the high sky beings, asked questions. "You left us to die; you let the plague bleed our children". In their eyes, there were dark rain clouds blinding our hope, as it has been for years.

Years that the night walkers spent, throwing blackened threats to our faces, reveling in the flow of our vulnerable tears. And when our children cried,they said they squealed like cats. Our golden children who came from the shores of the watery gods.

Our brave men fought fiercely, marched through the stony path.  Weighed down by the bodies of our pregnant women, they engaged the  steeled night men in a storm battle. A fierce battle that left them dead in the morning. You can imagine how downcast our spirits got. It was like a mother losing her newborn at birth, after seasons of painful labour.

Oh! Look at us, born free on the eve of the coronation of the the virgin Prince. We should live; we are the rightful heir to the blissful life in the garden of blooming cherries. But, now we are threatened with a life of fear and slavery by the tiny creature of the night.

So, we gathered at the feet of the breathing deities, seeking their face, to end our misery. We called on them even though we had cursed them, earlier. But, our men who cursed them were now dead and we had no shame.

We pleaded, humbled in spirit, bowed of heads. "Let us live again, let us grow crops again, let our women raise children again" we pleaded.

But, the gods only laughed.

They  Laughed at our fearful faces, our streaming eyes. They were amused at our lack of faith. " How are they so fickle?" they asked.

But, their laughter soon got pained, filled with disappointment.

They got sad because we could not see our souls, our steely hearts that could win the war against the forces that besieged us. So they angrily sent us away. "Go find your path" they said to us" their faces, bitter. "Look within, for our guiding hands"

We left as the gate of the temple shot at our faces.

* * *

Come on then, brothers, let us be on our way. Let us go back to the the hearth of our birth where our cords sleep. Let us find shelter in our feeble hands. And eschew anger in our hearts for the gods, for they are full of love for us.

Remember, on our birth, they said to us " go forth and conquer."

They dream of the day when we'll stand on our  green feet unaided. They want to hear our victory song.

So,  sing therefore  with me,  brothers, sing:

We march to the frontline, to fight.
We march to the dark field
to rip our children from the thorny hands
of the storm pirates.

We march

Within us, lies the key to our eternal freedom.
Within us, lies the path  to our healing.

We march.

We are children of the morning
Within us,  lies the power of the gods........