He will deaden the living,lay his stone axe to the root, falter a grim perimeter round the base, cleave the cover, strip the bark to bloodlet life from branches then move to decimate the next one. His family consumes him as does his god, Aba’ binni’li’. Circling counterclockwise he sings the song of the sun, wielding his death axe rosary, cultivating a clearing for food. The wood he will huddle for fuel to foster prayers for his people. Incense, breath of the dead, sacred fire sustenance for hearth body, secret soul, whirls to the sky and whispers a plea for returning, to lift Bala’, Olbi’, and Tanchi’ harmonious from the slaughter to flower among the voices of the forgotten.
Aba’ binni’li’ - Creator Bala, Olbi, and Tanchi' - Beans, Squash, and Corn
To the center of the world you have taken me and showed the goodness and the beauty and the strangeness of the greening earth, the only mother — and there the spirit shapes of things, as they should be, you have shown to me and I have seen. At the center of this sacred hoop, you have said that I should make the tree to bloom ... With tears running, O Great Spirit , Great Spirit, my Grandfather — with running tears I must say now that the tree has never bloomed. A pitiful old man, you see me here, and I have fallen away and have done nothing. Here at the center of the world, where you took me when I was young and taught me; here, old, I stand, and the tree is withered, Grandfather, my Grandfather! ... It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives. Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds. Hear me, not for myself, but for my people; I am old. Hear me that they may once more go back into the sacred hoop and find the good red road, the shielding tree! ... In sorrow I am sending a feeble voice, O Six Powers of the World. Hear me in my sorrow, for I may never call again. O make my people live!
- Black Elk, holy man of the Oglala Lakota (Sioux) tribe (from Black Elk Speaks)