22/07/2025
Ozzy Osbourne has crossed over now — and I imagine the sky is louder because of it.
He wasn’t just a rock star. He was a thunder being in leather and chains, a wild spirit who cracked open the silence for those who needed to scream, to cry, to feel something real. And like our own stories of powerful beings who walk between worlds — Tricksters, shape-shifters, lightning carriers — Ozzy lived in that liminal space. Part chaos, part healing. A force that couldn’t be tamed.
To many, he was the Prince of Darkness. But I saw him as something else: a keeper of sound medicine. A voice that carried the storm. In our ways, we know that drums are not just instruments — they are hearts. And Ozzy? His voice was a war drum for the forgotten. A howl for the wounded. A chant for the rebels.
And like the old ones who sing their last song before they go, he gave us his final notes just weeks ago — sitting on a throne, surrounded by 42,000 witnesses, offering his whole heart to the sky. That wasn’t just a concert. That was a send-off. A rite. A return.
I believe when he crossed, the ancestors heard that sound. Maybe the stars shimmered a little brighter. Maybe the wind carried his name like a chant over the hills of Aston, over the deserts and forests and city streets where his music once blasted from open windows.
We have a word in Cree — kîsikâw pîsim — the day sun, the light that returns after night. That’s what Ozzy was to many: a reminder that even in the dark, you can rise. Even in the chaos, you can love. Even through the pain, you can sing.
So I lift up to***co for him today — for the gift he was, for the fire he carried, for the path he blazed.
Travel well, Osbourne. May your spirit find rest, and may the next world be ready for the storm you bring.
The stage is yours again, Brother.
Ozzy forever.
—Kanipawit Maskwa
John Gonzalez
Standing Bear Network
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Watch the video of the last performance Ozzy did just 3 weeks before he passed away....
