She speaks to me,
in a whisper,
the gentle mother
of this island.

Of times passed by,
of days to come,
and the future
of our times.

She tells me love
will be the choice
that directs the course
of history.

determined by
the light or dark
we choose to be- –

Day is done,
sun is gone,
from the lake,
from the hills,
from the sky;
all is well,
safely rest,
God is nigh.

She breathes out peace
Aloha au ia ‘oe,
she beats,
while the rain plays Taps
and softly weeps.


*original words from “Taps” by Horace Lorenzo