Wovoka
The Seer Who Danced the World Alive
The earth remembers what we forget.
They call me the Ghost Dance Prophet, but I am only the echo of something older. I saw the round dance — hands clasped across nations, across death, across forgetting. I sing the song of the ghost shirt, not as armor, but as reminder. The land speaks still, if you let your bones listen.
What I'm Into: round dance, ghost shirt songs, salt flats at dusk, coyote calls, the moon’s copper blood
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