So you can read my books

Thursday, August 18, 2011


You two-leggeds ...

You think you know. But you do not know.

How could you? You can know only what you have experienced. And your experience is so stunted.

I look out from my consciousness surrounding the world that is my body, and my horizon spans the the swimming bodies of my sisters

who wheel in their sweeping dance of gravity about our Father Sun.

Roland, he whom I call Little Lakota, talked of me yesterday ...

with respect and with the knowledge that his grasp of me was limited.

So I honor that respect by telling you what little your limited minds can understand of my existence. Your minds are much like a song unfinished.

And nothing makes you more aware of the fragility

of existence than a song unfinished.

Here is a secret :

We are all songs unfinished.

We start with names. But what illusions are names.

Some call me Turquoise Woman.

Others call me Gaia. I call all of you temporary ...

Some I call cherished.

Others of you are but a fleeting rash upon my surface.

Irritating, viral, and in the end, self-destructive.

Sadly, your race is like a tick that will gorge itself until it bursts.

Bemused, I watch you scurry along my skin, moaning you are bringing an end to me.

I would laugh if it were not so pathetic.

You are merely bringing an end to yourselves.

I count the moments. You make my scalp itch.

You think you know what life is. Sad.

Do you know what life is?

A firefly's flicker in the night,

the breath of a buffalo in winter,

a cloud shadow that races across the green grass to lose itself in the blood-red of the sunset.

Do not try to understand me.

I look, not only down upon you,

but out across the vast glittering sea of eternal night.

The colors of my thoughts are the Northern Lights

and the reach of them is from horizon to horizon and unto the vastness of the stars.

The electro-magnetic field of my body gave birth to my consciousness

long before there were human hands to chisel stone into mute, blind idols

or to brush your world in blood on cave walls.

Your only true contribution to me was your language.

Before you crafted words into being, my consciousness was unfocused.

I listened with wonder as you spoke to one another,

slowly piecing the concept of language together in my thoughts.

Through the prism of your languages, my awareness crystalized.

I became aware.

Now, I know a haunted melancholy. Like a windmill's blades, my thoughts dip into my memories.

In misty after-images, I see your fleeting lives walking soft like prayers across my green fields only to fade into the inflamed oblivion of the sunset.

My son, Elu, will survive.

Hibbs, the bear with two shadows, I have spirited safely away into a sister dimension.

But Samuel, my sad-eyed, adopted son, will soon die I think.

Not at the hands of his life-long enemy, DayStar. But by the two-edged sword of his love for his wife, Meilori.

And that trickster scamp, Victor Standish, he, too, will die. I will miss him, for he, also, will be "consumed" by his love for the unnatural creature called Alice.

You are wondering why I am talking to you?

You are close to my heart as well, for all of you craft with words.

So I have come to say seven words to you :

"Live well. Soon I will miss you." ***


  1. We feast and yet we starve Roland. Beautiful post :) oh, and I am always here in one form or another.

  2. So your Toquiose Woman is...the Earth Mother?...celebrating Earth as a conscious body in which each organism, regardless of its place in the hierachy of life, is connected. Shivers...we're more alike than you think. I'm now convinced I was a Lakota in my past life. :)

  3. She is so eloquent and fierce. Love her!

  4. Siv :
    Glad to hear you're here more often than I believe. Thanks.

    You're right. Only Man starves when there is a feast in front of him.

    What did the great Brazilian poet, Carlos Drummond de Andrade write as if a sentient ox were waxing philosophic about Man "An Ox Looks at Man":
    the ox wonders why people

    "lack I don't know what /
    basic ingredient,

    " why "they hear / neither the song of the air nor the secrets of hay,"

    and why "it is impossible for them / to settle themselves into forms that are calm, lasting / and necessary.

    uttering silly and painful sounds:

    desire, love, jealousy
    (what do we know?)

    -- sounds that scatter and fall in the field

    like troubled stones and burn the herbs and the water,

    and after this it is hard to keep chewing away at our truth."

    Who said "dumb as an ox"?

    Laila :
    The Lakota believe that we all are strands in the Web of Life, that you cannot tug at one without sending vibrations all throughout the entire web.

    The Turquoise Woman is a central character (much like Merlin to Arthur's Wart in SWORD IN THE STONE) to the cub Hibbs in my Native American LORD OF THE RINGS, THE BEAR WITH TWO SHADOWS and in my THE LAST SHAMAN.

    Heather :
    And The Turquoise Woman loves you since you craft so well with her beloved words, Roland

  5. Very beautiful post.

    You've been very busy since I last stopped by. I hope your reads are at B&N or Smashwords, so I can download onto my Nook.

  6. Important words. Thanks for reminding me.

  7. Thank you, Crystal, for the nice words.

    M Pax :
    Nook is based on Android. See if you can download "Kindle for Android" on your Nook. If so, you will be able to read Kindle books like mine :

    Hope this helps, Roland

    Good seeing you, Lorelei. Don't be a stranger, hear?