Syowen Spirit Cry Poem
The cry is an obsidian blade That pierces this reality. It cuts open a window Into the dream time.
My suffering is unavoidable; I must release the pain of separation-- of speaking instead of singing. I must release the pain of limitation. I must release even my self. I cry, and the Creator pities me.
I have shed my human form; I have entered the Bear Robe. I look at you but cannot see you Unless you have prayed yourself into existence.