Wild Stallions: Calling Us Home

There’s a place between worlds. Between stories you’ve heard. It’s carried on wind, on the song of the bird. In mountains and forests, fur of a bear, tattered red fox, platypus stare.

Take courage, stir those waters, take the reigns of the heart. Gallop in dark oceans, shine with the stars. No shields are needed when you wield the sword of truth.

Stand strong with grace and beauty my friends.

Let those wild windhorses carry us home. Anything that crumbles is not worthy to stand. Breaking down to waking up, pour it all to fill the cup. Emptiness is fullness. That’s the paradox.

Squawk of a heron. Flight of an eagle. Remains of a bat. Brown snake venom. Death lingers on the land. Always has, always will.

Yidaki dreaming on misty morn. Echo of a six string across a green meadow. Spirit asking us to trust the path that we can’t see. Dire alternatives, to be sure.

One ear to the soil, the other to the sky, listen in to the whispers from the old ones. Rattle and drum, we sing our blessings til the end of our days.

There’s a glowing mountain staff. Green. Still as a rock. Silent as snowflake. Gentle as water. Powerful as avalanche. The four winds cradle canvas tent. Singing us in, beckoning forth, if indeed we trust the call.

Reminders, remembrance. An ocean in a drop, the drop in an ocean. That’s what we are. A species with amnesia, but many are breaking the spell.

So let us gather, let’s remember, let us pray and come together. Let us dream of new ways, dream another day… and night. A good thing indeed.

We’ll ride those humble steeds, and ready ourselves, and our voice, to sing beauty, as we raise the cup of life once again and take drink from those sacred wellsprings, calling us home.

I am the smoke raising from my pipe. You are the rainbow trout glistening upstream.
We are the summer winds, rolling over that green hill. Open the heart, still the mind, dream that new dream.

Hoka hey. Today is a great day to live.