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Here in this place of ancient wisdom

the Ghost Dance begins.

The ever present beat of drums

calling the ancestral spirits home.

No costume, no pretense;

they dance for their past and future

as the onyx sky twinkles with souls.

I am a witness, a voyeur at the sight

and thrilled at the spectal of homage.

Each step, a tribute, a meaning

as they circle the fire of life

in a ceremony older than time.

The Ghosts are honored

and so am I.

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