Up poetry from Hades--these new Huns
Cannot transform without the gift of art--
The world will desiccate in decadence.
A gold and emerald feathered serpent
To terrify us with its promises,
Convince us we must all at last repent
To gain his insights--shed, renew our souls.
One must descend in order to receive
The gift that will transform the pain and strife
We find ourselves in--we must now believe
In a new culture that believes in life.
The shaman's poetry will heal the rift
That's poisoning our culture--that's his gift.
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