I Had A Vision With Which I

The Life Of An Indian Is Like The Wings Of The Air. That Is Why You Notice The Hawk Knows How To Get His Prey. The Indian Is Like That. The Hawk Swoops Down On Its Prey, So Does The Indian. In His Lament He Is Like An Animal. For Instance, The Coyote Is Sly, So Is The Indian. The Eagle Is The Same. That Is Why The Indian Is Always Feathered Up, He Is A Relative To The Wings Of The Air.

Also, As I Lay There Thinking Of My Vision, I Could See It All Again And Feel The Meaning With A Part Of Me Like A Strange Power Glowing In My Body; But When The Part Of Me That Talks Would Try To Make Words For The Meaning, It Would Be Like Fog And Get Away From Me.

The Great Spirit Is Everywhere; He Hears Whatever Is In Our Minds And Our Hearts, And It Is Not Necessary To Speak To Him In A Loud Voice.

And If The Great Fear Had Not Come Upon Me, As It Did, And Forced Me To Do My Duty, I Might Have Been Less Good To The People Than Some Man Who Had Never Dreamed At All, Even With The Memory Of So Great A Vision In Me.

If I Thought That I Was Doing It Myself, The Hole Would Close Up And No Power Could Come Through. Then Everything I Could Do Would Be Foolish.