His moccasin foot treads softly on the unbeaten ground.
The man, overcome by the surrounding beauty his People had found.
To live off the land his People do treasure.
Careful not to disturb the universe at measure.
Upon a snow-capped mountain, they do reside.
Closer to God--their spirits' guide.
They watch in confusion as others kill and waste for pleasure.
Any hope for a peaceful friendship between, long severed.
Others mock his People and call them savage.
Yet, it was the "civilized" that reeked the damage.
The only true Natives, to this Holy land.
Pushed out by the new-coming, greedy man!
Starved, murdered, raped and plundered.
His People lost all for which they lumbered.
He stands tall upon the mountain, a tear in his eye.
Watching all he and his People love--slowly die.
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