No Titans left to slay,
Constellations left to claim.

The temples of gods,
swallowed under eons.

In an age without wonder,
to be born with the heart of a hero,
is to be cursed in a time without villains,

Destined for barbaric purpose,
in a world without adventure.
Armor swapped for silk,
Surrendered swords to philosophy,


Still I believe that somewhere,
between closed eyes and open spirits...
The ancient battles still rage on,
flashes of wars without names.

Where blood shed for valor,
Paves paths for all nations,
to the hall of heroes,
and an eternal feast of celebration.

People say that growth is a lifelong journey.
Talk about the scheduled trip like it's to the most holy place.

I can leave I had a talk with my attorney.
I have packed my bags and I'm ready for the new taste.

Where is this fantastic place called the future?

Ears I don't need to hear the music you are.
I don't have to sing along to be one with thy song
You are the tune, my words fit in, meaning falls in place,
The voice rises and falls,the  journey of my music thus begins.

You are the river of nectar, that never ceases to nourish my shores.
That doesn't need any space or time to flow through; it never ends.
A drop of it's ebullience, I am catapulted from the flow of your wave.
I roam, searching for you, to return and immerse  in your fathomlessness.

High atop the mountain
a boy crouched alone in the vision pit – waiting.
Raising his red stone pipe to the four directions
he sent clouds of willow bark smoke
skyward toward his ancestors.

Naked beneath his star blanket he wept a man’s cry –
crying for a vision to come
that his people might live!
Chanting with eyes fast shut he waited and prayed.

First came the cries of the wind,
then the whisper of trees.
Birds swooped and circled about him.
He shook his rattle crying,
“Tunkashila, grandfather spirit, help me.”

A voice spoke in the call of a bird,
“Your sacrifice will make you
Wikasa Wakan, medicine man.
We are the winged ones and we are your brothers.”

In a swirling cloud his great, grandfather came and spoke,
blood dripping from the hole
where a white soldier’s bullet had found his chest,
“You will take my name, Tahka Ushte, Lame Deer.”
The new man on the mountain rejoiced.

Quietly entering the vision pit,
kind Old Chest placed a hand on Lame Deer’s shoulder,
“Four days have passed, it is time.”
and led Tahka Ushte down to the valley.

*June, 2006

I'll grab this time to think for myself
Can I really take this break?
Did I make you feel happy somehow?
Can I give up my ultimate dream for you?

I am now asking myself
This many questions inside my head
Can I give up my dream to become a mother
And to become a wife to you my dear?

Am I capable to have a home
Of only me and you
Without a child
And without a knot to tie us two?

While I'm waiting for you
To your quest to fix your life
I will talk to myself
And tell you my answers
to my own questions, in time.

Ocean currents exuberant, spell out what turbulence, really is
expressions of brute force, takes over the whole of ocean depth,
a puny little fish, blinded by thick foam, navigates alone, finding path,
sheathed in a silence going beyond mind,to a destination luminous,
never perturbed, calmly exploring that state, not fully discernible yet,
an impression abstract, getting infused with more and more clarity
each passing moment,then the orchestra of waves resonates with heart.

A wild rider through the prairies of life, extending to far horizons,
in my veins the true spirit of intergalactic nomads, stardust,
from many past lives brims; it sets the tone of my enduring quest.
My  indefatigable steed, and me are one in our thoughts and heart.

Through her changing  hues and moods, nature speaks to me, inspires
drenched in moon beams, to the uplands we would  traverse,
then come the slopes descending to deep pits and dark hollows,
my prairie homestead, tucked away in that valley distant,to me
is a dream mysterious; dense solitude keeps it for me as a secret.

A miraculous herb, I found by chance, among the flora rich,
keeps thirst and hunger at bay, and the quest continues unhindered,
low hanging fat, white, clouds change the display in varied forms,
to regale us as we cross the badlands, that try to bog us down in vein.

Love caressed me at times,like gentle wind,once a whirlwind
made me lose bearing,with a thorn made a slash across my heart,
love is a sweet pain, but losing a beloved, a crusted ugly scar,
but the traveler is in a trance, still led by the pole star's lonely light,

The bows and arrows I destroyed after long  introspection,
herds of bison as I pass would notice,see me empty handed,
stand still as if in a guard of honor, to watch me pass with a smile                     
Still night, embellished by starlight, sung lullabies to us weary souls.
my steed and I go diving deep,hungrily in to the pool of sleep
                                                           ­                                       
**Sleep, wakefulness, day and night; all encased within a dream.
I, my steed and the lives the prairie embraces, and the galaxy  are one.

My beloved night was dense,dark, wavy, soft velvet,
fully naked, moving in rhythm with me,  frenzied, sweet,
we moved heaven and earth to reach the acme of delight,
then flew in to a sudden  culmination,words fail to express,
the day dawned, blazing molten gold,ages were  impatient steeds,
together we rode, gained wings, became transcendentals, sublime
reached that tranquil, trident  blue peak where silence for ever reigns,
we had a deep yearning to sit and peer deep in to each other's eyes,
and see what remains after the last wave returns to the ocean's heart.

Above the emerald mountain,ran a river that fell in to an abyss,
the white foam of it's smile told us, about all we sought thus far.

"Ÿou have reached here in your frenzied search for the elusive
chasing the essence of a conundrum unexplained , cyclic, cryptic"
looking at  us sang a little bird, from a low hanging branch
of the tree of diamonds, that shaded us with it's clear light.
We felt the thousand petaled lotus  bloom within us that moment.

"Day and night are the horses that draw the chariot you ride,
an oasis you'll reach, then  hear stories that would ease your pain
you are in a story that reflects on the periphery of a bubble,
that exists in innumerable worlds simultaneously and hence
none is real, your truth you create,every minute and live"

We are somnambulists, that sit and paint colors in our fanciful dreams,
when we smile the colors stick to our souls till the apparition dissolves.