Oct 16, 2006

Our Immigrant Ancestors

Their residence would become a foreign country

For love or faith, they would become

An immigrant on a distant land

They would leave and not look back

Their lives sifted like grains of sand

Always a stranger, yet striving to build a life

Never really to call it home

Alien in many ways, such a long way to roam…

They would deny their royal birth rite

No longer to hold a scepter of power

They would build a new life,

Their histories devoured

Not for lack of love for native country

But for that promise their heart had spoken

For a crown is an empty adornment

If ones heart lacks devotion

And a royal bloodline is cold

Without a body to keep it warm

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