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The Spirit Horse – Ancestral BloodlineThe horse does not just run across the steppe,But carries the dreams of the ancest...
07/08/2025

The Spirit Horse – Ancestral BloodlineThe horse does not just run across the steppe,
But carries the dreams of the ancestors.
Each red paint streak – is the blood of the warrior,
Each curved line – the sound of the sacred drum.
The horse's eyes look as far as the bottomless sky,
The ears listen to the whispers of the mother earth,
Each step is an ancient teaching,
Guiding people back to the forest.
On the horse's body, feathers spin,
Like a spiral of life between wind and soul.
Fire – water – stone – tree blend in the breath,
All live in the supple shape of the horse.
The natives call: "You are the messenger,"
Guiding the soul over mountains and rivers.
Without a rein, without the need for an old path,
The horse carries the faith and runs forever to the east.

The Weaver Bird – The Keeper of the Ancient SkyIn the dawn, when the earth still dreams,A weaver bird flies indifferentl...
07/07/2025

The Weaver Bird – The Keeper of the Ancient SkyIn the dawn, when the earth still dreams,
A weaver bird flies indifferently.
Indigo – red – white feathers like fire,
Sowing ancient patterns in the sky.
Each wing is an ancient song,
About mother earth, about the lapping river.
Each flight – wordless needle and thread,
Weaving the sky with dreams only.
The natives call me Weaver Cloud,
Because I connect night and day.
Carrying the patterns passed down from my ancestors,
Sent into my wings, into each flight.
Orange butterflies fly like the burning fire of the season,
Blue butterflies are the prayer for rain.
All gather around the weaver bird,
Like a sacred circle of ceremonies that has not yet been quieted.
And when the old people tell stories by the fire,
The sound of the fire is the sound of ancient wings.
The weaver bird flies away – does not disappear,
Only turns into a pattern of the wind…

"The Hummingbird – The Little Messenger of Heaven"We are as small as a drop of early rain,But carry the wind's words fro...
07/07/2025

"The Hummingbird – The Little Messenger of Heaven"We are as small as a drop of early rain,
But carry the wind's words from all directions.
Flying silently through the deep sacred forest,
Carrying love, mending wounds.
The old man said: "It is not only beautiful,
It is the soul of ancient hope."
When the tribe falls into darkness,
The hummingbird flies to it – without a word.
Each beat of its wings is a prayer,
Each glide is a sacred light.
Bringing a message from another world,
About love, about the gentle motherland.
It does not need to roar like a wolf,
Or be majestic like an eagle.
But when a person's heart is broken,
The hummingbird mends it with time.

The Soul Horse of Mother EarthOh horse, companion of the long day,Under the vast sky, where the wind sings,Your feet kic...
07/06/2025

The Soul Horse of Mother EarthOh horse, companion of the long day,
Under the vast sky, where the wind sings,
Your feet kick, running through the deep forest,
Carrying the soul of the earth, following the footsteps of people quickly.
The red feathers burn like the fire of the sunset,
Like the sun rising in the morning,
On your shoulders are boundless dreams,
The ring of dreams, feathers fluttering.
The wind whispers to tell ancient stories,
About ancestors hunting, looking for rain,
The horse is the messenger, between heaven and earth,
Protecting the soul, keeping the warmth.
By the cool stream, under the full silver moon,
The horse and the eagle spread their wings and fly,
Freely, proudly in the vast sky and earth,
The horse is the symbol of the living soul.
Keep running, my loyal friend,
Carrying the soul, passing through the years,
The horse in our hearts, is that strength,
Connecting the natives, like a dream.

The Native Soul BoatThe boat stands firmly on the shore of the blue lake,Depicting memories and stories many times.On th...
07/06/2025

The Native Soul BoatThe boat stands firmly on the shore of the blue lake,
Depicting memories and stories many times.
On the boat's body, the sharp strokes,
The red, black, and blue colors blend together beautifully.
The boat is like the soul of the mountains and rivers,
Guiding the journey across the vast ocean and sky.
For thousands of years, many generations have passed,
Carrying dreams, carrying memories of life.
It is not just a simple boat,
But a symbol of sacred power,
The calm water, the gentle wind,
The story lives forever, never to be forgotten.
The boat carries the love of the land, the love of the native people,
The love of harmony between nature and us.
Each stroke is the call of the ancestors,
Each wave is a steadfast heart.
Look at the boat, see the soul of the mountains and forests,
See the heartbeat of the ancients filled.
On the water, the dawn is radiant,
The boat is like this endless song.

“The Song of the Whale”The elders of the tribe say that in the old days, when the world was still breathing its first br...
07/05/2025

“The Song of the Whale”
The elders of the tribe say that in the old days, when the world was still breathing its first breaths, whales were the guardians of the ocean’s spirits. Each of their songs was a story, a prayer, a memory sent from the depths of the water, to the stars.

One night, when the sunset burned brightly on the horizon and the sea became a mirror reflecting the sacred world, a giant whale jumped out of the sea. It brought not only water and light, but also the stars — woven with the whispers of the ancestors.

The natives who were camping on the shore at that time stopped in the middle of their dance and drumming. They were stunned when they saw the whale, because it was not an ordinary animal — it was the “Bearer of Dreams,” a sacred creature from the time of the ancestors.

An old man placed his hand on his heart and whispered:

“Listen. It is telling us what we have forgotten. Balance. Gratitude. Return.”

And sure enough, that night, the wind changed direction. The sea was calm. Everyone listened together to the long song, vibrating the sky, like a thread connecting the past and the present.

From then on, whenever they saw the whale stretching out in the big waves, they did not speak, did not shout. They just placed their hand on their heart, closed their eyes, and whispered:
“The ancestors are calling.”






Call of the WolfBeneath the moon, in silver light,A shadow moves through starry night.Eyes like fire, soul like stone,Th...
07/05/2025

Call of the Wolf
Beneath the moon, in silver light,
A shadow moves through starry night.
Eyes like fire, soul like stone,
The Spirit Wolf walks all alone.

He does not seek the praise of men,
But sings the songs of where we’ve been.
Through forest deep and mountain high,
He speaks with wind, he howls to sky.

A guardian of the olden ways,
Of sacred fire, of dreamtime days.
Each step he takes, a prayer is laid,
To honor bloodlines long decayed.

He teaches strength, he teaches grace,
To walk in truth, to know your place.
And when the world forgets its voice,
The Wolf reminds: we still have choice.

So when you’re lost, and night is cold,
And stories fade the elders told —
Close your eyes, and you may hear
A whispering pawprint drawing near.

Sacred Buffalo of the PlainsGreat Buffalo, spirit bold,Guardian of the stories old.You walked the Earth when time was yo...
07/04/2025

Sacred Buffalo of the PlainsGreat Buffalo, spirit bold,
Guardian of the stories old.
You walked the Earth when time was young,
And taught our songs before they’re sung.
Your breath is wind, your steps are drum,
Your horns like moons where visions come.
The children learn from where you tread,
To honor life, to share their bread.
You gave your flesh, your hide, your soul,
So every clan could still be whole.
We danced beneath the prairie sky,
With grateful hearts, and spirits high.
When winter came with teeth of frost,
You stood your ground, bore every cost.
Through you we lived, through you we prayed,
The sacred path you never strayed.
Now painted on the feathered shield,
Your strength remains, our wounds are healed.
In dreams you run through fire and snow —
A guide, a star, where warriors go.

Salmon's JourneyIn the whisper of the mountain stream,A salmon dreams beneath the gleam.Born of water, spirit, stone,She...
07/04/2025

Salmon's JourneyIn the whisper of the mountain stream,
A salmon dreams beneath the gleam.
Born of water, spirit, stone,
She swims the path her kin have known.
Through cedar shade and river bend,
Where eagle cries and forests send
Their blessings on the sacred tide,
She journeys where the elders guide.
The rocks remember every name,
Each scale, each spark, each burning flame.
For when she leaps, the sky will see
A soul return to ancestry.
Not just a fish — but legacy,
A drumbeat through eternity.
She feeds the bear, the bird, the land,
The child who takes the elder’s hand.
So when the salmon finds her shore,
She births the stream with life once more.
A circle closed, a spirit free —
The river flows through you and me.

The Weightless MessengerShe hums through dawn on wings of light,A flash of green in morning’s flight.No louder than the ...
07/03/2025

The Weightless MessengerShe hums through dawn on wings of light,
A flash of green in morning’s flight.
No louder than the breath of trees,
Yet carries songs across the breeze.
Born where flowers greet the sun,
She drinks from life, then swiftly runs—
Not from fear, but boundless grace,
She teaches stillness in the chase.
The elders say she knows the way
Between the night and break of day.
She dances where the spirits rest,
And builds her nest in hearts that bless.
With feathers stitched from star and leaf,
She brings to sorrow sweet relief.
A healer not with hands, but sound,
Where her wings beat, peace is found.
So when you see her shimmer near,
Don’t catch, don’t chase—just pause, and hear:
A message carried in her flight—
That joy survives the darkest night.

The Wind-Bearer HorseIn twilight’s hush beneath red sky,A horse was born with stars in eye.His mane like smoke, his coat...
07/03/2025

The Wind-Bearer HorseIn twilight’s hush beneath red sky,
A horse was born with stars in eye.
His mane like smoke, his coat like pine,
He galloped where the suns align.
The elders called him Spirit's Breath,
A gift that rode between life and death.
Each hoofbeat shook the sleeping stone,
Each breath returned what time had known.
He danced on hills where warriors sleep,
And sang to roots that grow so deep.
He bore the prayers of every name,
And wore the winds like woven flame.
Not tamed by rope, nor touched by brand,
He listened only to the land.
When people strayed from earth and sky,
He stood and sang — not asking why.
With feathers bound around his mane,
He leapt through storm and sacred plain.
And in his stride, the people see
The path back home, the way to be.
So if you hear a distant drum,
And feel the wind before it comes —
It may be him, still running far,
A spirit riding through the stars.

Raven in the SkyIn the hush before the fire,When the drumbeat climbs no higher,There comes a shadow, winged and wide,A r...
07/02/2025

Raven in the SkyIn the hush before the fire,
When the drumbeat climbs no higher,
There comes a shadow, winged and wide,
A raven calls from stars inside.
He flies not lost, but led by lore,
Through stories sung on earth before.
His feathers hold the dark and light,
A dream that walks between the night.
He whispered truth to ancient flame,
And carved the wind with secret name.
He stole the sun, the tale goes on,
And placed it where the day is born.
Not cursed, but clever, bold, and wise,
He sees the world through mirrored skies.
Each caw a riddle, sharp and clear,
For those who listen more than hear.
The elders say he mocks and plays,
Yet guards the path of sacred ways.
And when your thoughts drift far and deep,
He’s watching still — in silent sweep.

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39899 Balentine Drive, Suite 200
Los Angeles, CA
94560

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