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If I close my eyes, and breathe in very deep, I go back to a world, on the edge of sleep. In the false light of morning, just this side of dawn, A game begins in a place, where man is a pawn. The Medicine Man stands on a ridge, on a rocky, windy hill, And throws out his energy across the plains, giving the Earth his will. He speaks of all the winters past, of places far and away, Of a need to leave the past behind, yet, a need for the past to stay. He calls upon the ancients, asks a blessing upon my spirit, And shakes his rattle in such a way, that to this day I hear it. He looks down upon the buffalo, says, “See your Destiny there, For you alone are responsible, for their future and their care.” I dreamed I danced among them, and the thunder of the Earth was mine, That there was no civilization, no fences, no concept of time. I had thought him hard and callous, but much to my surprise, Tears of joy did glisten, in the furrowed corners of his eyes. He said, “ I know you now understand, who you are and what you’ll be, You’ve taken on a new spirit, one the buffalo can see. A peace, it had descended, the old man stood silent until, He spoke the words that changed my life, words of truth that echo still... “You will begin to fly now, above the rhythm and the sound, Your spirit is the Nighthawk, no longer earthly bound.” Then like a fog burned away, by the warmth of a rising sun, He vanished into the air, but all was not said and done. Into the sky I flew... a bird of prey upon the wing, The thunder of the buffalo, and my cry, together, did sing. My search led to thousands of acres, on which the buffalo could run and shout, Stampeding in primitive abandon, as they often dream about. And I?...I fly above them, watching with unbridled glee, Sharing in the unleashed passion, one feels when totally free. I follow a vision journey, on a higher, centered plain, Thankful for this chance, to die, yet live, again.
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