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.
Thanks to moss for this one - she adds that the poem is from the Omaha Tribe of Nebraska, and that it's addressed to a stone. The poem is found in David Abram's book, The Spell of the Sensuous. More at http://www.feasta.org/documents/review2/spell_eden.htm
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