Randles Lighthouse

Lighthouse

Come along on a journey of enlightenment, as I share with you the visions, thoughts and original poetry of my treasured friend and cousin, 'Falling Light'.

Larry has been gifted from Creator to tell the story of our people. I have long wanted to publish his writings. Dedicated to our Native American Indian ancestors and all indigenous peoples with love, compassion and deep respect.

http://www.RandlesStation.com/

Larry Dean AKA 'Falling Light'

All poetry is copyright and to be used by special permission only.

A letter to our Ancestors

I am Falling Light, aka as Larry Dean. I am the linage historian and story teller of our days upon Mother Earth, as given of The great Spirit Grandfather. We have always honored the ways of our Creator and tried to live peaceably with all of mankind just as we were taught.

I have found at long last the blood Birthright that was stolen from our people who chose to remain here in the Woodlands of Ohio. A most gracious and beautiful paradise given to you from your forefathers. Our daily trials are much different of yours, yet no less demanding and filled with hidden dangers.

I am deeply honored to be your spokesman and to retrace your time and deeds. To report your names and dates can never return our birthright, but with your perseverance and spirit, may this bring honor to our hidden and Native bloodline which has been nearly erased from our memory.

I know that you live beyond our mortal sight, yet I feel your spirit in all that I do.I feel your warm smile as your name is revived and spoken once more. Forever I have prayed to Grandfather that He might restore our people to a renewed prominence and respect before this swiftly failing pride filled Nation.

I have learned much upon the White road, because my spirit always clung to the Spirit world. It told me that I was different, that this was not right for my soul to have no rest nor peace of mind. Grandfather protected my life with a Godly mother, who had lost her Native ways. He has opened my eyes and my heart to see His truth and has shown me the Red road. It has filled my empty spirit and now I am complete.

Many questions puzzle my thoughts, yet I can not ask Grandfather why. He is omnipotent. I am His creation and dare not ask to know His mind. It is mine only to seek and to learn and to share His wisdom that He has given to me. There are many like me, wondering in darkness without sight. Perhaps my pathway will help them to search with Spirit eyes, for the truth that I have found.

Through all these ages as clan battle clan, tribe against tribe and Nation against Nation, we have learned nothing. We are all brothers and sisters, no matter of color. One and all of same spirit, as our blood and bodies return to Mother Earth. Of what noble cause we died, our blood was still Red and Innocent, while being shed

for the will and greed of but a few.

~Falling Light ~

Looking Far North, by Sacred Spirits, is from the Album: More Chants and Dances of The Native Americans.

Sacred Spirits is a musical project by Chris Zundel, Ralf Hamm and Marcus Staab. For each album sold they make a donation to the Native American Rights Fund, a non - profit American Indian organization devoting all of its time to restoring the legal rights of our people. Albums and singles may be purchased at Amazon. Thank You.

Some very dedicated Native American singers are promoted on the following pages of this web site.

Please support them by purchasing their beautiful music, as they are helping others in need.

Assimilated Into Him

All my youthful days I have known

I being out of step with time

Always free in spirit and thought

Yet held in bondage all around

My pathway grew into searching

Possessing wisdom beyond my years

Seeing faces unknown within my mind

Yet, always feeling at peace with them

At last to meet Native peoples

Opening my eyes to realize who I am

Yet I am not raised to know my people

I wonder can I return in mind frame

My spirit and blood crying out to me

What can I do where can I go

Be I White, Red, Black or Yellow

Wisdom tells me

I am held in Grandfather's hand

Spirit Blood

I awaken to a new age

A land with no buffalo

No towering woodlands

Mere bushes they call trees

Mother Earth torn asunder

Her beauty painted with poison

I am assimilated into bondage

With no memory of who I was

Faces flash within as my soul aches

Searching for ages lost in time

Mothers weeping no longer heard

All are called to the spirit world

I yet live and boil in many hearts

As they search for what once was

In time they may find me

Living within only to realize

I am the breath and blood

Of Grandfather and His beloved son.

Some of my ancestors, Munsee Mahican Delaware (Lenape), were born in Randle (Coshocton) which was the old Delaware Capitol of United States. See the Indian Villages around my home town by clicking here

Click the box (middle at top beside the shopping cart) to enlarge the map of Historic Indians in Ohio.

A cognate woodland tribe of the Mahican & Delaware, the Wyandotte Nation has posted a

Time Line of the Ohio Trail of Tears

Descendants of Ebenezer Zane, Wyandotte founder of Zanesville, Ohio are listed in Kansas Huron Cemetery

In memory of Morning Star's, Christian Mahican & Delaware ancestors who were cruelly murdered at the

Gnadenhutten massacre

Click thumbnail below to see the first official map of Ohio. To exit the map click close at the bottom.

Ohio did not legally become a state until 1953 and then was legal retroactive from 1803.

If you have enjoyed the Native American poetry & music on this site, please leave a comment in the Guest Book.

Free Translation

(Some languages)

Light Of The World

Site Map

My Mountain Morning

Morning fog hangs heavy between the towering mountains, life below awaits the warmth of the noon day sun to cast its gleaming shadow into the trees and slowly to the valley floor, then traveling upward to become the setting sun.

How crisp the air, haze of misty droplets covering Mother Earth. Looking towards the heavens I behold majestic mountains and age old trees covering her scullcap. To see ravens soaring on air currents in weightless beauty.

I return to my world below and breathe heartfelt gratitude of living halfway to heaven.

Spring brings life anew as snow caps melt into the earth. Red buds burst as leaves cover trees and bush, hiding timid wildlife longing for sheltered freedom to roam again. Wedding flowers of spring cover Mother Earth's soft breast, envy of any blushing bride. Such beauty brings nearness of my Creator, silence broken only by cries of whippoorwills and mother turkey with her chicks, shrill call of elk in the highlands. I savor every sense and smell.

Wood fires burning somewhere in distant valleys, my world awakes. Crisp air nipping at my nose and ears, I praise Grandfather for this way of life. This mountain lives deep within my being for I am raised far away. I am out of step of where my soul claims refuge, yet wherever I am, I have learned to greet each wondrous morning. My spirit smiles to greet that crystal morning light. I lay claim to this gift most precious, life held within Grandfather's hand. A world made for you and I to realize our Creator is still in control to hear our softest cry.