I had a vision at Organ...of the wikkiups, the travails, the long line of Indians, and the buffalo I have seen there...at Organ. I have seen the dust they caused to rise toward the heavens... not heavy, not obscuring, only lightly adding to the visage, to the atmosphere... Light dust, but visible...at Organ.
I have heard the sounds, I have felt the breeze when there was none....at Organ. I have experienced the freedom that for me has existed no where more completely than at Organ. I have experienced the emptiness and the fullness, concommitantly, at Organ...and at nowhere else.
I have smelled the animals that are no longer there... at Organ, and faint, sweet smells of newgrown grass and small desert flowers... at Organ, in December.
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