The Initiation / N. A. Ruins Arizon 2001

The Shaman sat upon the sand, the sand of ocher clay; between the walls of ruins tall, where ancient one did lay. The sky above, the earth between; took in his sincere plea tinksha’s toned and soft flutes droned, a mantras bold decree. The desert heat rose like a fog, around his folded form. Assassin once and marked by death today, he’d be reborn. He’d been the light on darkened paths, within the blackest night; he’d be the dark now ‘mongst the glow, of over awing light. He had not seen, he had not known, that ‘mongst the killers he; had been the light, the kindest fright, he’d been purity. And now, upon this sacred path, the path so golden bright; he’d be the dark and fearsome soul trudging toward the light.