There were dark days that became black
When the light came, like lava-fires of Earth.
I rode from the hills on a scraggy horse,
A maze I realized only when I stood-on
The shore of the sea, whose waves whispered,
Their legend of the frothy deeps. A town
Of Ghost-dancers had left pots of paint,
By the deserted street, well in the shadows
Lurked a few businessmen in dark suits,
Where the bank and drugstore met at last.
Three crows were my companions then,
As I slipped into the cold waves myself.
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