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The chief woke one day and with his eye,
saw the apparition, and emited a sigh;
right then and there, he realized well,
under its influence – he would dwell;
where was this dwelling, where was this place? –
where he could look directly into its face?
The Chief had grown bold, his fear removed,
his understanding grew, his nerve improved.
He wondered to himself – how could he,
speak to the apparition most openly?
It seemed to know his thoughts, an aura like fire,
surrounded the apparition; flames growing higher,
in deep fearfulness the Crow Chief fled,
Hiding his heart, his soul and his head.
Once again yanking on his long, snarled hair-
he seemed to be caught in some net or a snare.
Not knowing if he was locked in pride or shame,
he could not discern if they were one and the same,
“I have no free will,” he cried. “free choice I gave –
I am not Crow Chief; I am the apparition’s slave!”
As the other Crow Braves saw him suffering there,
they did not understand the chief’s dreaming affair –
that brought him to such sadness and grief,
which caused him to see the apparition belief.
His wailing and weeping fell on saddened ears;
they wanted to understand the old chief’s fears,
how could they question him, how could they say;
“We have our natural spirits, that we must obey –
should we give you, our revered chief, advice?
or will you treat us like winter, secluded in ice?”
For a fortnight the old chief sat and gazed,
the others looked on, powerless. yet amazed –
that the chief did not need fire or shrouds –
as rain fell from dark threatening clouds –
a light-blue aura surrounded him with light,
as he sat in serene silence, night after night.
They say that he never had love nor lust;
also, he would return to nature as dust.
Day and night, he sat there as other braves wept,
with eyes growing drowsy – they never slept;
“Great Spirit will this never end?” they cried,
“Or is it possible that our old chief has died?”
The nights were bathed in various severities,
which caused the Crow braves several agonies;
their cries and lamentations were heard on high,
while hoping their old Crow Chief would not die,
they watched him through dusk and night,
deep into the early morning’s purple light,
they worked themselves into an anxious state,
regarding the revered Crow Chief’s final fate.

Next Post;    S2:E7     (Part 6) The Story of the Crow Chief and the Apparition