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Kimarie Teter Oct 2014
The pearly gates wideopen
bang goes the drum,
Ring is the fever of the pitch
The bell becons me home
Standing at the face of the dust covered elders
Our wispers sing into decades unbound
Winding up the gentle moss
The northern prayer echoes
Mighty drums mighty lungs
We howl and we yelp from our remembered chambers
Sketching our way thru the vivid lansdscapes
We pause, we sit we see
Breath in the great mother
For her arms await our hurried Souls
Cracking pine rustling trees
We look in awe toward the stars
Today comes another dawn
Tonight brings a golden sunrise
For creator within writes home

— The End —