The shaman who calls me
charges the air with expectation
A dozen bloodstreams thundering in unison
Coursing to the tapestry of sweat and smoke
And an old ancestral song
Just beyond the circle's edge
The faces of the animals emerge from shadow
The summoning of elders,
and dusty rooms are warmed again
Flickering in the glow of forgotten insight
I fight to see this vision
But the busy mind keeps struggling
Whispering and fighting off the outside voices
Finally, between the drumbeats,
both of us give in
To silence