There was a ROW through the steep canyon one could picture as any canyon could be. Montana, Idaho, Oregon, California, Alaska.

Through the canyon rode three fishing pole laden machines, more poles than people. Upon a snowy unbroken trail Three young men drove their machines towards a cabin where the road split up into the high or low ground. Above a lake forbidden to me. Never to enter as to never again to leave.

What does this mean?

Have you heard of a story about a man named Moses? Staff to snake, sea to part ways only to return in deluge to silence the chariots while the proud horses screamed.

The weather has changed bringing relief from smoke and heat while the mountains shed stony debris, not as warning, more like a dog sheds water to dry

He was warned to never kill and yet he did as his heart was split between. Never to set sole to what he truly needed.

Apache. Geronimo.

Black foot.

Sioux.

Flathead.

Inuit. Russian, Turkey, Chinese.

A canyon standing tall on par with eternity, allowing commands and forbidding all to return to what they call, sanity.

A war? No.

A battle? Partly

Peace? …

At first it all felt as if a dream.

Then with mind wide open; chasm deep, to hear the mountains sing.

“Lets dance! Lets dance! Open the heavens! Lets dance away the sickness, the ill! Lets dance until we dream.”