The Shaman Poem by Steve Howard

The shaman built his shaman fire,
small but bright as fires go.
Then safe behind his only mask,
he proceeded with the show.

He thought his words both sage and subtle,
precise, profound and true.
Yes, beautiful they were to some,
but understood by very few.

He did not seem to grasp that fact.
He did not seem to know;
and wondered why his following,
in numbers slow to grow.

So he sang out even louder,
wishing more would sing along,
in hopes his tiny gathering,
would turn into a throng.

The shamans song went on and on,
but at last came to an end.
To drift away into the night,
to die upon the wind.

Alone, he paused and pondered,
until beneath a shrinking moon,
he knew he should remove the mask,
and sing a kinder tune.