Our already cracked-dry lips,
Skin as white and pale -as in the colour,white.
Dusty-dry wind travels in and out of our nostrils,
Hazy fog in the mornings,tell our untold stories;
Our story of Chicken and Rice.
Excitement grows more nearer,
Days roll by,
Whether crawling or walking,
The power is rested on their tongue
They speak forth,and we listen.
We listen,and dance- like the flowers,tossed by the wind.
We dance to their tune of Christmas air
The one of Chicken and Rice.
We are the gods now,in charge of the staff.
The miracle upon ourselves.
To a merry season,
We bring forth Light,Joy and Peace – as seasonings,
Thrown towards the East,North,West and South.
To a Merry Season and a Blessed New Year,