This painting thunders with presence. A mighty buffalo charges forward, its eyes fixed on the beholder—not in threat, but in invocation. Dust rises around its hooves like incense, blurring the line between earth and spirit, past and now. The buffalo carries the weight of memory, the strength of generations, and a voice deeper than language.
Behind this sacred movement, two hymns emerge in layers: I Know That My Redeemer Lives and Give Me Jesus—songs of assurance and surrender, echoing like prayers caught in the wind. A map fades in and out of view, not merely of land, but of legacy—territory crossed by longing and led by faith. Scripture weaves through the dust and color, quiet yet indelible, waiting to be read by those who truly see.
Other hidden details surface the longer one looks—artifacts, impressions, and whispers of the holy scattered like seeds in dry earth. This piece is not a still image; it is a call to awaken. A confrontation with presence. A remembering.
It asks: What do you run toward? What strength bears you forward? And when all else fades—who do you ask for?