What I Am

I am just a figment of your mind, You create me, and perfect me, I become your every dream. I am just a wind that is passing bye, I carry no emotions, only stories, That my Ancestors whisper to me. I come and I speak, Like the White Buffalo of our tales, Here and then gone. I lend my essence to heal, As the rain does for the land, Though I could easily destroy. I am just an image in the smoke, Dancing as the [Ga lv quo di] pipe, is passed from one to another. I am just the beat of the drum, The call in the night, As you dance around the fire. I am just the feather of the Eagle, And that is all that will be left of me, A memory of a dream.