A thin silver cloud races across a high midnight sky
the moon burns like a lantern across the fields
the tired earth shifting and rolling beneath his steady feet
Underneath, the settled lands are moving
in the distance the settlers are well armed
In a wigwam burns a fevered dream
eagles feather, tobacco and fire crackling
sweating, he dreams of rifles mounted on the thunderbird
the young man runs outside
and keeps his feet steady planted on the shifting land.
dark skin and flowing raven hair
a chant at the moon and stars
useless rage, indispensable pride.
The rolling ground swells under him
the overthrow of nations, the end of Moonlight.
