What are words when meaning is deserted,
when there is ash where the ahi kā once burned?
Are lost to time the stories that once were the fuel,
or can they be saved from perdition?
What is a name without a pūrākau,
without knowledge of those who came before?
Are our tīpuna only passing shadows
or are they dancing in the land of youth?
How can we claim to be sympathetic
when we ignore the screaming of so many?
Can the Fomhóraigh sympathise with their victims,
when Balor’s castle is built on their bones?
Is there an answer to be unearthed,
or shall we always wander in darkness?
Will we be able to live in rangimārie
or will chaos rule eternally
When will the wheel of fate stop spinning
when does the future break free of the past?
Can outlooks be woven together,
or will the raranga unwind?
Can a deoraí embrace his peinga,
When he sees another in his whare?
Will we be forever cast adrift
or will the hiraeth at last cease?