As trying to sleep turns impossible,

and struggling to take the next breath overpowers

the terrorism of knowing it may be my last,

I fall asleep for moments 'til fear of asyphyxia

forces my waking anew to the terror of knowing

I could have been dead

and if I fall asleep again I may be,

as well as the twist that

there's nothing I can do about any of it.

As machinations of

travailing winds,

miraging, veil and mirror

narcissistic nihlistic

false-ego, as self,

"...we(e),..." evince to be.



Finding that find,

giving it away,

aliveness being this day,

and further searching,

to be this day

what it is to be this day.

I am thankful for,

The wonder of our

Morning star's rise,

And it's setting

Within our eyes,

On this Beauty Way

We build each day

With great surprise.



Native's compassion taught

Pilgrims at Plymouth

How to live within, give to,

Nature's abundance.

That providence sowed

Reaped graces' harvest,

Fraternity, bearing

Fruits to this day.



We gave Native America genocide, Earthocide.  

Chief Seattle said, "no one can own the land".

Bowing to Above and Below, for gifts bestowed,

Giving, may we, again, walk that way.

While giving thanx

This full Moon's day,

There, but for the grace

Of God, Great Spirit, go I.