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Autumn Leaves
volume 7 number 6
Autumn Leaves volume 7 number 6 |
Whispering winds quietly brush the native land,
A lone
Indian perched on a hill, pipe in hand,
Oh how his heart and soul aches with
grief
While he searches for his country's sacred relief.
Offering tobacco
in thanksgiving to his nation,
Fulfilling his ancestral salvation.
Slowly he rises above all,
Standing ever so tall,
Pipe
directed to the light of wisdom
As he acknowledges the holy
kingdom,
Offering tobacco in thanksgiving to his nation,
Fulfilling his
ancestral salvation.
He gives right to the four locations,
Sending reverence
with vocation,
And the powers of the four are invoked
As he send his holy
words upon the smoke,
Offering tobacco in thanksgiving to his
nation,
Fulfilling his ancestral salvation.
His heart gives way to a song from the mind,
Given to him
through his ancestral time.
Flowing emotion travels through the
air,
Feelings of value sent with tender care,
Offering tobacco in
thanksgiving to his nation
Fulfilling his ancestral salvation.
So now he fulfills his inherent right,
Unhurriedly his
pipe he lights,
Directing smoke to the seven,
Sacred words carried to the
heaven,
For now, he has done thy will,
With all the beings in the
universe,
He has offered tobacco in thanksgiving for his
nation,
Fulfilling his ancestral salvation,
So his people will live
through a revelation,
And tomorrow he will begin anew,
For in the Indian
World....
Every day is a day of Thanksgiving.
