White Buffalo

Under the ancient pearl moon when the ponies shed,
Murky reflections in the overgrowth,
A labyrinth lost in the psyche of bones and thread.

The mountains once echoed with elk that lightly tread
And the plains held the crow and buffalo,
Under the ancient pearl moon when the ponies shed.

Breaths, shadows and dust once all wove into the web,
Scattered dreams lay exposed in the marrow,
A labyrinth lost in the psyche of bones and thread.

Amongst the chaos of tracks and stairs on earth’s bed,
Obscured view through the dew laden window,
Under the ancient pearl moon when the ponies shed.

Forgotten are the young promises that were said,
The roots and springs remember the sorrow,
A labyrinth lost in the psyche of bones and thread.

Still, the fox and bear reclaim the hope that was bled,
A beautiful vision sings as winds blow,
Under the ancient pearl moon when the ponies shed,
A labyrinth lost in the psyche of bones and thread.

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