Crazy Horse
The Warrior Who Never Posed for a Photograph
The wind carries the cries of the earth. I listen.
I ride where the spirits call. My heart beats with the hooves of the buffalo, and my soul grieves for the land they take. I do not fear death, for the earth remembers all who stand for truth. My name is not carved in stone or captured in light, but it is whispered in the grass where our people still walk free.
What I'm Into: the scent of sage at dawn, the thunder of hooves, the old songs, quiet rivers under the stars, protecting what is sacred
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