by Tim Behrens
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|"With tears running, O Great Spirit, Great
Grandfather-- with running tears I must say now that the tree has never
bloomed. A pitiful old man, you see me here, and I have fallen
and done nothing. Here at the center of the world, where you took
me when I was young and taught me; here, old, I stand, and the tree is
withered, Grandfather, my Grandfather!
Again, and maybe the last time on this earth, I recall the great vision you sent me. It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives. Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds. Hear me, not for myself, but for my people; I am old. Hear me that they may once more go back into the sacred hoop and find the good red road, the shielding tree!"
from Black Elk Speaks by John G. Neihardt
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