The fire whispers secrets in the heart of the circle's embrace,
Shells chime like a hummingbird's song, a smile upon my face.
The singer's voice, a gentle breeze, carries prayers to the sky,
I close my eyes, a warmth spreads deep, a belonging I can't deny.
Our leader's gorget gleams in the firelight, a beacon, Â strong and wise,
His words weave stories of our past, a glint in his ancient eyes.
We dance beneath the watchful stars, a tapestry unbound,
Spirits intertwine, a joyful light on sacred ground.
But whispers drift on the twilight breeze, a seed of doubt is sown,
A shadow flickers in the flames, a feeling I've never known.
The leader's gaze, once filled with warmth, now seems a hungry spark,
His touch, a subtle leeching force, leaving its hungry mark.
The fire's song takes on a discordant tone, the shells a mournful sigh,
The stories lose their luster, replaced by a hungry lie.
We, the dancers, are vessels pure, our spirits, vibrant flame,
But the leader seeks to steal our light, to fuel his twisted game.
We yearn for the land beyond the stars, where the ancestors reside,
Where the sacred fire burns eternal, a place where spirits confide.
There, in that land of joyous dance, our true freedom we shall claim,
United with those who came before, forever free from his shame.
The veil parts, a celestial light bathes the ceremonial ground,
The leader reaches out, a desperate plea, a hollow, echoing sound.
But the ancestors turn away, their eyes filled with righteous scorn,
He stands alone, a banished soul, forever to be forlorn.
We join the dance with those who've passed, a circle, whole and bright,
His memory, a wisp of smoke, lost in the eternal light.