There was a Time...

There was a time when our elders were the holy vessels by which tribes survived through the ages. Traditions were taught to the youth through story and the old ones were considered sacred and venerated, they were respected. Cherished were the stories told for they were the backbone of the tribe, the history that determined the worth of each individual member, hence, the value of the tribe itself. Bibles and holy books didn’t exist for the story of the People was carried by the People. I long for these days gone by. I ache for a time when we lived by the rules of the world we were borne into, rather than by rules created by man…fallible and wretched, rules that serve to break us down rather than allow us to be all we can be. There was a time when Nature’s rules were all that mattered, survival of the fittest was a truth we all lived by, but it was survival of the fittest in its most authentic form. We took care of each other, looked out and knew each other for all our strengths and weaknesses. We made up where the other left off and we as a tribe survived, earning a place in the world that today, I’m afraid we don’t earn…we merely take. I don’t want to take my place. I want to know that I am part of the ebb and flow of all that is. Let me breathe deep the air that seeks to nourish these mortal lungs while at the same time, caressing my skin to cool me on hot nights in this desert. Let me gaze fully at a moon that lights my way while I walk paths of old, paths so ancient that I am inspired to speak nothing, just listen as the old ones walk with me and whisper their stories in my ear. Oh, I beg of thee…whatever Power that be, oh Story Teller of old…take me back to a time when our elders were the holy vessels by which tribes survived through the ages. Take me there and leave me…for my soul is battered and I am tired of this life, this lie of a life I find myself living.