It Is Hard To Follow One Great

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 Holy Land Is Everywhere.

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.

I Did Not Know Then How Much Was Ended. When I Look Back Now From This High Hill Of My Old Age, I Can Still See The Butchered Women And Children Lying Heaped And Scattered All Along The Crooked Gulch As Plain As When I Saw Them With Eyes Still Young. And I Can See That Something Else Died There In The Bloody Mud, And Was Buried In The Blizzard. A People's Dream Died There. It Was A Beautiful Dream.

It May Be That Some Little Root Of The Sacred Tree Still Lives. Nourish It Then, That It May Leaf And Bloom And Fill With Singing Birds.