A Shaman
Was a collector of relics
And little trinkets of gold
He blessed them with charms
Of wonder
As the story goes...
He collected and placed them
On candlelit shelves
Deep in the chambers
Of The Temple Of Self
Then he left and went on a journey
Hoping the gold would be there
On his retuning...

He didn’t fair as well
In his travels of the new lands
In a cavern of dirt he dug in deep
With a guide of retribution and confusion
He knew this place was incomplete.

And so here
In the silence of our prayers
Once again we become aware
......