When the suns morning glow bathes the granite face of Roman Nose,
And a galaxy of stars glitters like sunlight on freshly fallen snow.
When the moon rises majestically, a prickly silhouette, the forests loftly pose.
As owls anguished cry sends shivers through his soul.

When he gazes upon the Blackfoot Tipi, its gnarled poles grasping at the sky.
The pointed canvas illuminated from the fires crackling glow.
Cedar logs explode like gun shots, orange embers float, then die,
As falling stars overhead above the smoky canvas hole.

When the pipe is lit with sweetgrass then passed among old friends,
Surrounded by stoic warriors on tipi liners round about.
Smoky prayers to Man Above curl gracefully then ascend,
While glances meet then dash away, as hearts turn inside out.

When blood brothers trod paths within each others woods,
As lonely Night Hawk screams reverberate in the night.
Tranquil hearts beat like drums, cherished memories from other times.
Tainted dreams dance within the flames, like ghosts in the flickering light.

When he kneels on Mother Earth, her bosoms sacred ground.
Within the grasp of weathered ledge poles, a circle with no end.
He hears the plaintive wail of restless spirits on the wind, a haunting sound.
Then he realizes he's lived before, as his grievous heart whispers when.