Embraced within the arms of beauty,
My mind is unburdened and pure of thought.
My spirit light-hearted takes flight,
And it soars to a Dream Land.
A place where waters flow clear and unsullied,
Like the beginning of time.
All creatures great and small harmonize,
And by their sides Ancestors,
Of, time immemorial.
The soft mellow beat of ancient drums,
Linger within the hushed breeze.
By gone generations,
Dance humbly for The Creator,
And encircle the Sacred Fire.
The patter of moccasins,
Scarcely make a sound,
As they meet the Sacred Soil.
There is only joy and laughter.
And it fills the air,
Like the hawk flies.
A place where there is time without end,
And the eagle never cries,
Nor the willows weep.
For within this Dream Land,
It knows not sorrow,
Sunsets like burnt embers glowing,
Grace the sky way.
And the blithesome song of the Mockingbird,
Eagerly greets the beginning of each new day.
The morning glory openly accepts the dawning.
If only my spirit could stay,
Within the Sacredness,
©Elizabeth Ann Bushey