Wrapped in the whispers of stars and ages
Inspiration from above like a glittered swath is around my shoulders.
It is a shawl of time and ancestors,
Breath beats eternal.
Of vision and wisdom,
I am surrounded by the old stories and the voices of the desert.
The tambourine still vibrates from the crossing
And its skin shows echoes of
Water of libation to freedom and tears of joy and fear.
The wind plays harmony on the wheat fields as they sway in their gleaning dance.
She moves her own heart lead way toward her chosen path.
His feet part the mountainous dirt below,
His arms hold the emblazoned stone above.
Breath and dust meld into one,
Forced forward by the divine lightness that supports the heaviness of the human heart.
Did this happen?
Did this happen this way?
Does it matter?
What do you want to bring down from your mountain?