Black Elk prayed:

Grandfather – with running tears I must say now

that the tree has never bloomed. A pitiful old man,

you see me here, and I have fallen away and have

done nothing. Here at the center of the world, where

you took me when I was young and taught me; here,

old, I stand, and the tree is withered, Grandfather,

my Grandfather!

Again, and maybe the last time on this earth, I

recall the great vision you sent me. it may be

that some little root of the sacred tree still lives.

nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and

fill with singing birds. Hear me, not for myself,

but for my people; I am old. Hear me that they

may once more go back into the sacred hoop

and find the good red road, the shielding tree!”