There has not been a word spoken

The mystic paths are long

As I stroll through the tall green grass
I document where others have been
The mystic paths are long and narrow
My thirst for discovery has yet to be quenched
Darkness falls all around me, as I lie awake
Under the stars that seems to be asleep
Only the spritis know who lies beyond
Hidden beneath the unknown tombs
Have I unearthed, what has taken place here? When I find the writings on the stones?
Perhaps, but after 10 million years,
Still, there has not been a word spoken.

Freeland L. Daniels (c) 2005