Plains of Nod

Amidst thy grassy sea, Stands a lone cottonwood tree. A man of red– His many feathers Scatter like dust– Away in the wind. Amidst thy cottonwood tree, Lies a man who once was free. A man of blue– My musket, aflush A sacred scarlet– Stricken with iron. ‘Thy brother’s blood crieth unto me.’ My blank canvas, Suspends in time– For I – I Hath begotten flames– Unto this rich plain Of gold. My brother in red– He is dead– And my sin hath killed him. In shaking tears, I run out into the sky– Chasing his feathers.