Bright, my herd of buffalo. Dark, my quarrelsome me. Bright on an open field of starting over, saved from extinction only in a dream. I could build, but I´m not building. I´m not finding open fields. I should try, but I´m not trying. I´m in a chasm, not open fields. Bright, my dreams of moutain tops. Dark my quarrelsome me. Bright at the top above the timberline, where a harsh wind has swept it clean. Clean into the gully, where I live in the shrubs. In the shrubs in the gully awaiting the chance to be hit from above by the avalanche. Saved from extinction only in a dream. Hey, watch my pony. He´s falling down.

.. her name was lucifer ..