The flesh and blood stories of all known are oft forgotten,
Lost to the unforgiving eroding winds and water, scattered
Burying the remnants into soil forming rock and peat
Some stories are carried across
In words and songs, some in artifacts left behind
I have no fear in the treading of time erasing our stories
To you they would be mediocrity a fleeting past, like most
I will have carved our's on my femurs, come end
Vivid descriptions of you, how my soul has loved
To be discovered by an ardent avid archaeologist
To be read like folklore, of ancient tribes faded long ago
No comments:
Post a Comment