Like small planets
We are
Generations oribiting
We Are
A tribe under
This one-roof cosmos

There is
A cycle of
Death and rebirth
Of souls and nebula
Traveling light years
Around one another

My father sits,
Patience
of an old chief smiles
Through clouded blue eyes
His ears choose sounds cautiously

His pleasures have
Always been small, simple
His way of living whispered
Quiet in the explosion of this galaxy

He sits in the sun
An Indian wrapped
In an old animal skin
I can still feel
His power, his youth
Beyond the mask of his fading star

When I here his laughter
And see large hands so gentle
Stroke the cat as he whispers,
"You and I are a like---we are old,"
I know he is afraid

He is a warrior with dim memory
Lingering on the shores of this
Cosmic ocean

Looking to the sky he awaits
The fade of his slow flame

In orbit of this family,
This small stellar explosion,
He awaits the morning sun
And that Great Silence, alone

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