Every april I die on a mountain for four days
And at last I am reborn; like nature in the springtime–
Blossoming like flowers and hatching like a cocoon in it\'s last stage
I too go through my phase of metamorphosis
I sit alone in the imperfect silence as long as my body can
With only a sacred pipe in my hand
Days seem everlasting
With the presence of the radiant sun undeniable
What a bittersweet moment, to be smothered in affection from the sun, but the burning sensation worsening with the hours
My flesh—blistering
Finally the night sky has fallen and I can see the stars glowing in a distance
A feeling of relief now possesses me as my body begins to cool down
I lay
And let the brisk breeze dance around me
Surely the night should be coming to an end soon
Into the dream world I can go
After praying as long as I can
Yet, here I am wide awake
With no concept of time
And my thoughts getting the best of me
Finally I slip into the state of temporary darkness
Only to be awoken by the songs that the nocturnal animals sing–
And the cycle repeats
When it gets difficult I sit up, grab the sacred pipe, and pray
I pray not for an easy fast—
But for the strength to endure this hard one
I cry, but no tears falls
I cry, and my mouth moistens
Soothing my severe cottonmouth
I cry for my vision