Underground Poetry- Hoop of Life. Native American Vision- Crazy Horse, Prophecy .

A Holy Man Sees

All that we were, will not to remain...

the tired and sick of heart;

the lost peoples of the land-

Be of good heart.

Red people, Yellow, Black and Pale,

this dream existence we live in will cease.

A new day will dawn for all peoples.

an end of the crippled ones comes soon.

For all sick men and women

who rejoiced in the times of evil and the dark heart...

those at war against the human spirit.

count your hours.

Be wary,

you weak men, hooked to lies and broken agreements,

you are a leprosy

cast upon the souls of children.

Multitudes will be left begging at deaths door,

in those days when,

black skies cry hailstones of fire.

Crying as one,

swept along in a torrent -

they will be carried helpless.

All will thirst for cool drink in parched lands.

In those days- Death- will be welcome to the poor of heart.

A great vision is revealed…

In those days of the great earth shaking,

and high waters-

angrily– mightily- stricken down-

greed, and hate will wash away.

Scattered peoples come together at long last.

All will dance once more,

to the return of the Grandfather.

The Shaman Crazy Horse sees…

"Buffalo Calf Maiden" in white quill buckskins,

bathed in milky solutions of moonlight-

star luster, truth and love...

The "Hoop of the World" restored.

The old life put away for all time.

Unbound from the dream life of sugar tongued lies,

false faces and broken promises.

long awaited freedom from the diseased ones is at hand.

The sobering of a people from their intoxicated minds and dim hearts,

takes root in the Springtime of those last days.

Many will pay heed to the voice calling,

not all.

Those stubborn and blind

will be swept from the land-

crying out in their pain, confusion and grief.

The eyes of pride and envy will be put out.

Pale hearts will be brought low.

The sacred pipe will be smoked once again.

To all the children,

for those who will hear,

turn to the four directions...

Honor once more-

The Giver of Life.

Walk again-

the True Path of Men

Humbly return-

to The Mother-

pray and dance in the old ways.

Great Spirit,

direct our path.

Let us know your approach with great thunder,

Cry out your arrival to the four directions,

Make known, the Coming Cleansing

Set fear into Dark Hearts.

Great Spirit,

Implant your ways-

in the hearts of the People.

Bind misery and hate.

Return the children to the Hoop of Life.

Carry away the hate, and greed of the blind.

Restore all people of peace to the Circle of One.

We will know of your coming,

when the withered tree blooms in the "Moon of Tender Grass"

In those times, your children will sing the old songs.

A Crooked trail has come to its end...

The terrible dream of the evil ones closes fast...

It becomes forgotten to the memory of all children.

'Anger and aggression' will serve no more.

Those days are wasting away.

The dishonest ways are ending...

A New Time Awakens- and opens wide.

... an ancient disease cleansed once again.

A land free of need, a place of unity,

The Hoop of Life restored.

Brothers and Sisters of all races rejoice.

These are the visions -

through the eyes of one called Crazy Horse-

a Holy Man.

Brothers and Sisters of the Sacred Mother...

Dance to the ancient drum and sing for Peace.