The Poetry of Silence


My Vision
is the gift of the Ancestors

In the stones,
in the rivers,
in the stretch of the lands
that reach beyond the horizon
there is my breath
there is my spirit
there is my flowing blood.

In the land
That fades upon the horizon
My history was given

The history of Ancestors stories
that have created
my present.

In a time
that lives on
in the Vision
of eternal present.

And I keep the dreaming...