 World renewal song. Nothing was good. Winds blew and grasses died. I thought I was pitied, so I longed for a whole time song. I danced for it in deerskins. I made thought with paint and red lines from little finger to the left shoulder. I, silent, listening by dying grasses, began hearing at dawn. A new fire is lighted. The finished world is here, formed in mind patches. It is come, the song for rain and green and good. I sit by talking grasses now with nothing more to make a good world of than thought paint and dance talk and lines. But song colors pour over my world and my good time still goes on.