A night on cold muted woods
I conversed with the moon
Blowing, hushing, shrilling.
I am in another culture.
Living in remote forest
Or mountains or deserts
Place where everything is unhurried
Spot where technology is unknown
Magnificent creation of history
Suffered. Fought. Thus, conquered.
They are the first inhabitants
Drinking cold water of falls
Eating flesh of animals
Praising nature.
Unknown uttered languages
Long mythic tales
Rituals, prayers, songs
Astounding sacred places
Abstruse world
A world now uncovered
Native people
Tribal people
Indigenous people
They are people
Created by God
Nurtured by nature
Everyday in cold muted woods
They converse with the same people
Blowing, hushing, shrilling
Smiling, dreaming, living
Let them claim historical progression
Let there be cultural inclination
For this, let us remember and never forget.

