It was awe inspiring to say the least
It’s aura, a fiery fulcrum of lakes and leaves
the gaze, a deepened path where faith is needed
only the pastoral and pure can procure it’s sacred teachings
The villages fell into black gloom
A lineage of conflict with history etched in axe wounds
“The spirit is unhappy” echoed grand chief: Black Moon”
He summoned the seven tribes. “We must compile and enact a pact soon”
It was a gathering of brave warriors and shaman priests
Sages, hoarders, faceless daughters and common thieves
Everyone had a voice, “our choices: war and peace”
While the children, in the distance frolic in autumn leaves
Conversing with “something” that’s beyond their reach
We see further but they see more.