My dance is only to be felt by the grass and earth.

My song heard by only the coyotes at night.

To be a witness to the seeds live birth,

is a sacred honor, not a given right.

I plead to you and yours to grasp the leaf and flower,

Face the west and bid the spirits in this final hour.

Thumping and pumping Unci Makas’ heart does beat

She shakes and shudders, into the calm we retreat.

I tell you death lies in pride and assumed knowledge.
Peace be in balance and wisdom of a village.

Can we avoid the perils of the past? Perfect the art that is mankind? Your elected powers will not last, they will erode like the sun’s last shine, a new moon will cleanse the land, it will either grip you like a warm friendly hand, or strike you away…

Can you shed those scales and face the east and greet this new day?