The moon drips dark slumber
Somewhere painted people
Howl and chant
The juice of a thousand stars
Flows through clay veins
The shaman walks amongst shadows
Of what was, what is, what will be
The shrieking needle rain wind
Burns luminous eyes into slits
Staring over an endless haunted plain
The world is a black forest
Of night and desolation
But they who carry a light
Within their heart's mind
Shall never be lost
For after the Father's hands
Have wrought the healing
And the white buffalo roam free and wild
Among the deer, eagle, and wolf,
When all again as is one web
The holy dead shall rise like morning mist
Amongst the pure of soul
Alive in deep pastures of placid dreams
Underneath skies of infinite azure
In a new world born of old..
Looks like our "view" from the balony
Ocean City, MD
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