| Sitting by the fireside in the cold
| |
| | death that impresses its weight upon the
|
| desert night, the sky above him pitch
| |
| | traveler on this stage of the world.
|
| black and mysteriously void of stars, he
| |
| | It's the quotidian numbness of those who
|
| reflected on who he was and what he might
| |
| | aren't in a war zone, who have food and
|
| have been and the history of the troubled
| |
| | shelter and enough to meet their needs,
|
| times that were unfolding all around him.
| |
| | who are well enough, and who move from
|
| His name was Chief Joseph. Possibly the
| |
| | day to day as shadows of their own glory.
|
| greatest of the Nez Perce Indian Tribe.
| |
| | If these numbers would step outside the
|
| On a parchment in front of him, he wrote
| |
| | hopeless swamp of mediocrity, step
|
| these words.
| |
| | outside the approximate dream, then they
|
| "Let me be a free man.
| |
| | could heal the major tragedies of war,
|
| Free to travel. Free to stop.
| |
| | hunger, and sickness.
|
| Free to work. Free to choose my own
| |
| | Yet their genius and their collective
|
| teachers.
| |
| | will has been trapped in the not-quite,
|
| Free to follow the religion of my
| |
| | the not-yet, and sometimes the
|
| fathers.
| |
| | not-at-all.
|
| Free to think and talk and act for
| |
| | They have let the heroism of their soul
|
| myself."
| |
| | which bravely chose another incarnation
|
| Then he began to reflect on what it might
| |
| | fall to waste.
|
| all mean. If someone were with him this
| |
| | They are lonely for their own greatness.
|
| night of his vision quest, what would he
| |
| | They are frustrated with life and getting
|
| say?
| |
| | what they don't deserve.
|
| Staring at the fire, he understood. For
| |
| | They are not able to reach for that inner
|
| it spoke to him.
| |
| | something that pulls at them.
|
| Your inner fire is the best part of you.
| |
| | They do not wage battle against the
|
| It's who you are inside. It's who you
| |
| | stupidity that keeps them locked into
|
| want to be on the outside.
| |
| | insignificance.
|
| Every time you dream of what is possible
| |
| | Yet the world they desire can be won.
|
| for you, it sparks.
| |
| | It is authentic.
|
| Yet almost everybody reacts to it with
| |
| | It is probable.
|
| fear.
| |
| | It is their own.
|
| And this is why, more than anything else,
| |
| | When we feel the world inside, then we
|
| our world is in such a sorry state.
| |
| | will find the way to heal the world
|
| It's not even the major tragedies-the
| |
| | outside.
|
| wars, the poverty, the sickness, and
| |
| |
|
