Nomad II (Winds of the Plains)

The things we desire,
     the things we require
the things that inspire us
     The dreams we chase
in this mad dash, this race...

All of our errors are made in haste,
     leaving only regret
and that familiar bitter taste
     The Little Death of Fear
turns us to stone in place
     by the vacuous stare of Medusa's gaze,
uncaring eyes turned stone cold by the ages

What sages have the answer,
     what pages must be turned,
how many times turned away,
     how long  before i learn
sometimes i seek what i know is not there?
     Lantern in hand, searching for an honest man
or at least a clan that cares

The Winds of the Plains
     turn stones into dust,
train tracks going nowhere,
     blood red rusting arteries all dried up
Ghosts of caballeros and fieros en el cielo
     dance as the setting sun lights the horizion
in a myriad of colors beginning with yellow
     Kicking up no sand, barely making any noise
Sunset Ghost, Shadow of Night and Morning Spirit
     sing softly together as if in one voice
and rejoice in the splendor rendered...
                09-20-10