Return of the Native

Will the streams still flow as clear,
Will the numbers of the flocks be strong?
Will the wind still carry the pleasant sounds
Of the quiet village and the mountain song?

Will the sun still be as warm,
Will the winters still be so cold,
Will still the crimson sky fires burn,
Will the aspen leaves be as gold?

Will the soup spice flavor tickle the tongue,
When a long day ends with an evening begun,
Will the flutes still ring the same melodies,
Will the beat be the same on the leather drum?

Will the herbs in the air still be as sweet,
Will the earth be as firm under my feet,
Will the spring herald the same old joy,
Will the same folk be present for me to greet?

Or will the land be barren now,
A desolate field of fire and war,
Will the same structures stand,
That have firmly lasted for ages before?

Will the stories still be remembered,
When the tongues to prisons are tied,
Will the people’s will and strength abound,
When their greatest dream has died?

Will the valley be all toil and strife,
Will the village totem be a city gate,
Will the cry to the spirits beyond,
Be a pledge made to the state?

Will the river water be dark with blood,
Will the wolf have made his kill?
May the waters still be cool and clear;
May hope and life prevail.

I saw right through the dark

I saw right through the dark,

the night so black it moved,

a shudder under cloudy sky,

a whisper in the gloom.

twas not the night that drew me near,

twas not the twisted dream,

it was a quest to higher worlds,

it was a tear in the seam.

An empty space to let light in,

a soul to fill it up,

like the shadow over limitless void,

before the Will erupts.

I saw a light through the dark,

a grey, a silvery sheen,

two orbs flickering, yet no other light,

a timeless, constant beam.

Within the ray, I saw the earth,

and all upon the land.

I saw the infinite stars above,

I saw the creator’s hand.

I saw right through the dark

when I met your eyes,

even in the the darkest night,

a soul may shed some light.