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| A Thought by � baldy_4 Think about it The whispering of a nightime flute lingers faintly on twilights breeze.. Flame fingers beckon but leave no clue. "The souls they search out", if we only knew. Swaying junipers, groetesque shadows on moonlit ground. The desert lets us appreciate her sound. Brothers and Sisters take these things to heart, for the great Mother earth is losing her parts. The "scratch scratch" of the desert pack rat. Or the cougar on the prowl for winter fat. Look into the eyes of your soul, is there any way we can leave her whole. p.s. Take what you must into the wilderness. But leave only your hearts , souls and tracks. Thank you. |