I hear the drum of the tribal one who leads those who have overcome,
Those who have walked the path set by others gone on and travailed through storms and won.
I hear the drum of the tribal one that beats while we gaze at the rising sun, and as we watch the eagle soar by, its glory is painted in our memories eye.
I hear the drum of the tribal one,
It joins the lyrical eagle’s song,
Conducted by the grandeur of the eagles wings and all of nature gladly joins in and sings.
I hear the drum of the tribal one,
The cadence of the feet of today’s daughters and sons;
Warriors who have met the mark thus far and have set new goals to reach the furthest star.
I hear the drum of the tribal one,
It speaks of triumph when the day is done,
It’s the canvas of an eagle battling the winds of time, to arrive in a place where life is sublime.
I hear the drum of the tribal one, sometimes it plays a serendipitous song, of lessons learned at the top of the hill,
Now it’s easier to envision what’s ahead of us still.
I hear the drum of the tribal one,
It’s retarding slowly like the setting sun,
And with it the eagle glides to earth to take its rest, having passed the day’s tests.
I hear the drum of the tribal one-it lingers in the wind until the day is done,
Then it ushers new goals to set and achieve, as the eagles does, I believe in me.