As I dream
I am nudged and prodded
Told to travel through the land
To see and write about what has happened
To the Promised Land
Dawn has come
Bundled against the cold
I look thru the woods
The sun shines
On a far off field
I see the beauty of the land
How long will it last
Now bright and warm
Another day has come
I lift my pack and then my staff
I take the first step
To the tomorrows
Yet to come
The mountains, the Beartooth
Not despoiled
By human kind
Haughty and yet wondrous
For all to see
They are wrapped in a mantle of white
A cloak of beauty
This I see from where I stand
From here to the horizon this awaits my eye
Is there enough time to see it all
Time does not wait it is cruel
Finally the road straightens
And I enter
The Domain of Yellowstone
A jewel that radiates
From the Creator’s Crown
My eyes soak up
The majesty of the buffalo
The gait of the antelope
The stature of the elk
The nimbleness of mountain goats
The howl of wolves
And so much more
As I walk along the Lamar
I see signs of fish feeding
Cutthroat being pursued by a fisherman
A flyfisher oblivious to all
This time I shall not wade the Lamar
Time is short
I look to my side
And there I see the wall of the Caldera
Will it happen again?
Will all suffer?
Will the follies of some affect us all?
As I sit in the Amphitheater of the Yellowstone
I watch the steam rise from Old Faithful
And I say to myself
It rises up to the dome of the great Cathedral
In the Heavens above us
There are not many here today
Those that are, are quietly lost in the beauty of the moment
Behold!
Between the United States and Canada
Sits a park know as Glacier
Whose beauty and majesty is breathless
Created by the only one who could
Those that visit are quiet, awestruck
They are transfixed
Beauty is timeless
As the road winds again I visit Mt. Rushmore and Crazy Horse
I’ve kept my promise
She is by my side
The chronicle of the United States
The history of the Native people
The visitors are from everywhere
Polite, giddy with their cameras
Asking you to take their photograph
Hushed as they read about the people and the land
The greatness that is being lost
By those who only want and do not care
As I travel the road to the Little Bighorn
The land disgorges the new found wealth from oil and gas
The people are working
They scurry about
Food for their tables
So many things to buy and show
But what of values
For they are not for sale
Time will tell
Time is cruel
The Little Bighorn is quite small when compared to the rest of the land
Here cultures clashed
Crazy Horse’s people lay in the land
Custer and his men are marked by silent sentinels
A hallowed land
Forever watched over by the Great Spirit
The roads that lead into the bowels
Of St. Louis, Detroit, Chicago New York, Philadelphia, but to name a few
Everywhere I see wretchedness and squalor
Children without both parents
Who will care for them?
Who will hold them when they cry?
Who will teach them values that will be the guideposts for life?
Never again do I want to hear, “do you want my baby”
For what purpose other than lust
In so much of the land a wretched people
Who either lost everything or simply had nothing
Extend their hand for help
A government willingly provides sustenance
But at a price
Return to me again and again and I’ll be there
Their charade gives hope for the moment
But not for the future
Eventually the mist will clear and the wretched will understand
Time is short
And time is cruel
The land is bordered by two oceans
It is huge
It is fertile
It is beautiful
It is wondrous
It is blessed
It is meant to be husbanded and not prostituted
The capitol, Washington, DC
Is populated by political harlots
One of which proclaimed
That the Constitution
Clearly defining the path its sons and daughters should travel
And not as a legislator publicly acclaimed, “a document no one pays attention to”
The leader of this rabble
Was elected by the people
Because he promised fresh air and a new direction
He brought division playing people against one another
Solely because of the color of their skin
Only to be repeated over and over again
Openly displaying contempt for the rule of law
Refusing to enforce those statutes he considered unconstitutional
He is not alone in this rationale
The Book of Mendacity is full of half-truths and lies spewed by him and his fellows
The land is populated by a media
That does not act as the People’s bully pulpit
But acts as Folly’s activist
He is buttressed by those who in order to expiate their guilt
Expropriates the wealth and abrogates the rights of many
just to secure the favor of the few
It is a circus that never ends
But some day, perhaps soon, will end
When someday we shall find its remains in the History of Ashes
The surrounding countryside houses thousands of beasts
Totally lacking in civility and lacking in concern for their fellow being
Is it so hard to smile and say hello
Perhaps when we are hungry and cold we will rise up
Or will it be 1793 again
Maybe the landscape will be littered with pillars of salt
I am home again
I lay my head upon my pillow and dream
Of the ledger with the accounts that must be satisfied
Time is short
Time is cruel