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.
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