The Messenger

You hear the wind whisper
of a time to come

When all will be called
home
to the Plaines
of ancient knowings

When all will be asked
to speak of their taking
from the East
for the Winds of the West
to gently breathe
ending times

When all will know
of the shadows
danced in the light of night
waiting for the dawn

Mother will nourish us
and ask us to return
what we have taken

You
You sit beneath the tree of life
and though you have journyed from it
many times
you return home

In wisdom holding
to lead us
as you hear the winds of time

Home
to our Plaines

Sbec
March 2000






Created in the Joy of Sharing
March 2000
Redesigned August 2001
Design by Sbec
Thank you for visiting
Enjoy...and come again.

Thank you for respecting the original work found on the Woven Ones
Sungmanitutanka Sape and Sbec

Prairie Winds
Elan Michaels

A Prayer for the Morning


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