To Feel or To Think

I know that there be those among Tribe who dun get me, dun understand me. Could be I'm just too Old Plains. What moves me, dun affect them. Grass, as far as the eye can detect, forming a waving sea...it calls me to the March. The sound of metal ringing against da anvil, that be my siren's song. The making of things needed and necessary, yet beautiful in subtle ways. Most don't even know this side of me. Skies, most these days don't know me! Gone are the friends of my youth, except for a very few. Gone are my mentors and teachers. Gone is my father and my mother has found her peace in a new life, along with my sister. When I'm asked what I think, I usually gotta tell what I'm feeling. When asked what I feel, I find myself answering, "Well, I think..." Good thing none but me see this rambling tangle of disjointed musings.