Blinders

Historical whips mirror the futures past.
Fox circle progression with tangential dreams.
Red, what does it look like?
Love, what does it feel like?
Freedom, what does it sound like?
Show me all these things.
I am now, I am yours, give me your whip.
Let me see the ancestrial stains.
Let me feel its ribs across my back.
Let me here your unburdened snap.
Comets collide.
Death of two soul patterns carved into night skies.
We do not weep, but we honor.
We lay to rest the tribal feud.
We garland their necks and push to sea.
A dance around the fire.
Let the teachers go.
Uncharted terrain, where the Gods live.
Every step dedicated to those lost.
New journeys torched views.
Attention.
Intention.
A chance to see red. Through new eyes.
A chance to feel love. Through new hearts.
A chance to hear freedom. Through new ears.
Give me your whip.