Feathers and Airplanes

I have walked on fiery morning clouds. My hair like shooting stars behind me. I have chased lightning and whirlwinds in Hell, then drunk the nectar of Spring rain. I have stood at the edge of death, and felt peace. My children do not believe me. Having ridden in silver airplanes and thinking themselves wise. They say I am a crazy old man. I ask them, "if I have done it, how can it not be done?" I ask them, "if it cannot be done, how have I done it?" My children put feathers in their hair, and wear turquois jewelry. They drink all the liquor in the house, put on their faces as if going to war, then go and paint the town red. Still they call me crazy. But I have ridden in silver airplanes too. E.G. Maynard. 46 & 2. 3.