The moon of the night shades back the waves as they pound against the shoreline with rage. A rage carried by the tears my ancestors cry. Sacred sand stripped of value to market and pave roads in a far away land. A land that came to demonize our people, to deconstruct my people and now we are trying to reconstruct what has been white washed into the sea. . .There is little honor from those who are not of the aina but want to take part in the aina. The land that has been wilted away with beauty because paradise possesses all of these tranquil moments and life gets sucked out of it. We can hear the sound of injustice breathe as we cruise across the coast. Can you hear my voice when I am screaming in agony that you’ve killed everything that belongs to me? Raped the culture, monetized the culture, stole the culture, profit off the culture. . .enslave my people for the tourism industry and make us dance hula to feed the mouths of our keiki’s but you have no acknowledgement of our dynasty. . .our monarchy that was brutalized until there were no hands left to fight with, shackled to the palace. . .quiet room. . .quiet time, oh Queen of mine. . .the divine has bestowed upon you love, life, honor. . .pride. . .the legacy lives on. . .Hawaiian forever