Out of the Silent

Spring forth oh children spring forth
Lean not on those who cower neath the weeds
Rise up, oh pilgrims of the west
Claim that which you hold dear, independence

Stand up oh prophecies, shout the word
Ever do they weep and cringe
Beckoning they hold your arms
Clinging to your independence

Calloused are they, those who stayed behind
Jealousy emanates from every chasm
Your impending leave of absence
They disregard each attempt at independence

Suffer not dear child, dry your eyes
Bitter resentment goes cold as clay
You are the bells on the tail of this kite
Which flies toward independence.