when i walked out into the winter white-rock of stark desert, the wind sang ancient. i bowed often, i read the text, i wandered as they did – right around here…in these cliffs towering above the salt sea, my ancestry hummed with me. this prayer is an eternity. we are only one note in it all. such is the role of omana’ya. she does her part, in artistry of Yah! amen.