Ture North Strong and Free



The Dance

A gentle prairie breeze
kisses the trees,
music engulfs the night.
Sequences dot the blackness,
A frosty shield of untouched
purity covers the once golden
fields. Where ancestors forged.

Within the darkness
emerges the dance.
An unstoppable force of
Nature.
A magical display of
shattering images
burst forth across
the blackness, an endless
path of white light up the
night.

Bring a silent symphony
of breathless movement
cascading.
It disappears only to reappear
in another form, space and
time.

The canvas is bare,
nothingness returners.
Cold, alone,haunting silence
of our fathers, there fathers
and fathers before.
There is peace with the Great Whitehunter.

Brandy September 1998

Copyright 1998