Hey-a-a-hay! Lean to hear my feeble voice. At the center of the sacred hoop, you have said that I should make the tree to bloom. With tears running O Great Spirit, my Grandfather, with running eyes I must say....
The tree has never bloomed. Here I stand, and the tree is withered. Again I recall the great vision you gave 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, that the people may once again go back to the sacred hoop, find the good road, and the shielding tree.
~Black Elk