The Last Warrior
(in the land of machines)
Cold, steel gray eyes like arrows shooting out sparks
Of disenchantment, he steps into the dawn of a new day
Yawning away the taste of dreams and reaching forth to
Draw the sun into his arms so full of emptiness.
He smiles at his reflection in the puddle left by last night's rain
Distant memories of thunder and white lightning
Bouncing off the green hills and the glens, far away mountains
And deep, dark caves full of OtherKind and people not his own.
Muscular arms and legs clothed in warrior's garb, nimble feet in deerskin boots
Carry him to the forest's edge, quiet as the WolfKind and swiftly as the hawk
Beyond those trees lies another land, another world
A world full of mystery, wonder and danger.
Tales he knows well from childhood
Told by people long dead
And ascended into the night world above the stars
He is alone.
Shaking back his long, dark hair and rubbing sleep out of fresh, awakened eyes,
He listens to the calls he does not recognize echoing from the forest's midst
And from places he can never say he's known. Today, he thinks, today I will
Enter that forest and confront the owners of those voices.
Today, I will go and fight them
For what is the good of being a warrior without a war?
Who is here still to challenge me and taste my strength?
There is no one here but the bear who is my friend
And the unseen ones who live in shadow and never show their skin
Who is here to fight or slay...or love?
Peering through the trees, he tries hard to make out any form of life
There in the darkness of their shade but sees none
And yet his ears are full of their many sounds
Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow.... Tomorrow, I will go and seek them out.
Those who taunt me and call to one another in unknown tongues
I will confront them
He says softly and turns for home, the night falling now
Around his shoulders like leaves in autumn, his feet treading lightly
Upon the ground silent as the stars.
Lying on his back in the firelight's glow, he looks into the sky and wonders
If the others can see him there below and asks them for their guidance
I will go, he says to the night wind as his eyes close, I will
And the night wind whispers across his heart
And utters urgent words into his sleeping ears:
Yes, tomorrow you will go, my son, but not through the forest to die
At the hands of mindless strangers but through the sky above the stars
Into the night world where the warriors wait for you
You must go, for there is no place left here for your kind anymore.
Tomorrow they will cut down the trees and build a city in the place
Where now your head lies full of dreams. Tomorrow you will go for this is a battle
Fought with mechanical hands and with cold steel feet trampling down green hills
And valleys full of memories since time's birth.
It cannot be fought by fighting flesh or warrior's hand, this battle of machine
And progress, more a curse than a blessing from where we watch
It's movements up on high
Breathe your last breaths and dream your last dreams, my son.
And then tomorrow go from here to fight no more forever
For the battle that you seek is futile to your soul
And endless in it's pursuance
And it cannot be won.
(in the land of machines)
Cold, steel gray eyes like arrows shooting out sparks
Of disenchantment, he steps into the dawn of a new day
Yawning away the taste of dreams and reaching forth to
Draw the sun into his arms so full of emptiness.
He smiles at his reflection in the puddle left by last night's rain
Distant memories of thunder and white lightning
Bouncing off the green hills and the glens, far away mountains
And deep, dark caves full of OtherKind and people not his own.
Muscular arms and legs clothed in warrior's garb, nimble feet in deerskin boots
Carry him to the forest's edge, quiet as the WolfKind and swiftly as the hawk
Beyond those trees lies another land, another world
A world full of mystery, wonder and danger.
Tales he knows well from childhood
Told by people long dead
And ascended into the night world above the stars
He is alone.
Shaking back his long, dark hair and rubbing sleep out of fresh, awakened eyes,
He listens to the calls he does not recognize echoing from the forest's midst
And from places he can never say he's known. Today, he thinks, today I will
Enter that forest and confront the owners of those voices.
Today, I will go and fight them
For what is the good of being a warrior without a war?
Who is here still to challenge me and taste my strength?
There is no one here but the bear who is my friend
And the unseen ones who live in shadow and never show their skin
Who is here to fight or slay...or love?
Peering through the trees, he tries hard to make out any form of life
There in the darkness of their shade but sees none
And yet his ears are full of their many sounds
Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow.... Tomorrow, I will go and seek them out.
Those who taunt me and call to one another in unknown tongues
I will confront them
He says softly and turns for home, the night falling now
Around his shoulders like leaves in autumn, his feet treading lightly
Upon the ground silent as the stars.
Lying on his back in the firelight's glow, he looks into the sky and wonders
If the others can see him there below and asks them for their guidance
I will go, he says to the night wind as his eyes close, I will
And the night wind whispers across his heart
And utters urgent words into his sleeping ears:
Yes, tomorrow you will go, my son, but not through the forest to die
At the hands of mindless strangers but through the sky above the stars
Into the night world where the warriors wait for you
You must go, for there is no place left here for your kind anymore.
Tomorrow they will cut down the trees and build a city in the place
Where now your head lies full of dreams. Tomorrow you will go for this is a battle
Fought with mechanical hands and with cold steel feet trampling down green hills
And valleys full of memories since time's birth.
It cannot be fought by fighting flesh or warrior's hand, this battle of machine
And progress, more a curse than a blessing from where we watch
It's movements up on high
Breathe your last breaths and dream your last dreams, my son.
And then tomorrow go from here to fight no more forever
For the battle that you seek is futile to your soul
And endless in it's pursuance
And it cannot be won.
June 20, 05
midnight
©By Voo Shining Stone
For all Native Americans and for all peoples across the
world who have lost their beautiful lands in the name of progress.
midnight
©By Voo Shining Stone
For all Native Americans and for all peoples across the
world who have lost their beautiful lands in the name of progress.
