From time without
end
you rest
there in the midst of the paths
in the midst of the winds
you rest
covered with the droppings of birds
grass growing from you feet
your head decked with the down of bird
you rest
in the midst of the winds
you wait
Aged one.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Thanks to Thelma Wilcox for drawing my attention to this one. The poem, prayer, reverence, is addressed to a stone by the Omaha tribe of Nebraska and is taken from David Abram's, 'The Spell of the Sensuous'.
Post a Comment