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Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Silver River Stag

Walking through the woods 
The Moon kisses all things with her silvery light 
Looking up, you see the tops of the bare trees, outlined against the blue black sky 
Their branches reaching up to caress the sky 

Your breath mingles with that of our Mother, your footfalls soft upon her breast 
The wind pulls at your hair in greeting 
Carrying with it the sounds 
Of this winters night 

All is movement and flow
The river, gently relentless 
Never thwarted in it's journey
Over, under, around, and through 
Spirit knows the way 

Strength of heart 
Standing where so many cannot
Purpose crystal clear 
One of those who has come 
To help the people remember 
And to relearn how to walk

If a journey is weighed 
By the world's standards 
They cannot make sense of it 
But the Moon has come to witness 
And in the morning she will tell the Sun 
As they kiss in the moment of dawn's first light 

Those who walk with Spirit are never alone 

Written for my friend Paul Bagge, December 23, 2015, on the day he received his Native American name. 







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