Black Elk Paroles

I saw you wilt-
In a pure unselfish sacrifice,
you clipped your own wings
When an eagle falls
the sum of the sky shakes
And upon his impact
the entire earth quakes
The spirit of the pheonix is well alive
Only through you, it survived

Why is it that:
the thought of the end pinches us
and in a startled stupor we
check our ripeness, as if the juices
squeezed would pour onto the floor
at any moment.
we entertain the game that we must-
somehow- guard and collect them with our gourds
as if each drop can not be absorbed by the soil.
remember: we’ll collapse.
and spill the chalice of our fruited life
caught only to become a fruitless toil.
Why then do we not,
let the pulp drop.
Bend down and build a mound,
so a new tree will sprout
or erupt.