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I walk upon the quiet forest floor,
Where those before me walked in ages past,
And feel that I have been here once before.
This feeling is so strong and seems to last,
As everything around me calls my name
And speaks to me of history so vast.
For everything is different, yet the same,
As though I've been here once before today,
As distant light now turns into a flame.
We only live one life, is what they say,
But I am thinking that is not so true,
So, to the spirits of the forest I pray.
And as they show reflections in the dew,
I see myself a hunter in the land,
And one who travels in a small canoe.
Was I at one time from a native band?
And one who lived upon this forest floor?
Or are my feelings all just made of sand.
My vision lies beyond a distant door,
And in the forest is my sacred booth
Where I envision what has come before.
And though it seems a thing of ancient lore,
I've walked upon this quiet forest floor,
And paddled my canoe off distant shore.
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