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The Bones Are Talking
Sun's Seering Warmth Upon The Bones
The Bones Are Sacred
The bones are talking.
Can you hear them?
Where are the great ones?
One lifetime brought to grow,
and so were the fore- fathers of the land.
The mothers with their bosoms fed them once.
Fathers directed their existence to many lands,
As both parents taught and led the way.
After a lifetime together, all time was shared.
The bones let the brain and body organs go.
The new directions in matter,
then all that was left was bones to show.
Taken to a place of great depth.
Left were they to find their space in time.
Some placed socially close.
Other Bones were left alone.
Pure white and not a sign of ethnic origins.
No discriminations were to be made.
Bleached are the bones as time passes.
Sometimes they were left in the sun's penetrating rays.
Over time, bones are crumbling, old, and sometimes worn,
but destiny placed them by chance or plan.
If only the bones could tell,
then what would they say?
In great respect, I would listen,
and never to make them disappear in time.
Money, power, and greed should never remove the bones.
They are sacred now and forever.
Speak your peace oh great ones of the past.
Touch them not for you will take them in.
Sacred in time will all the bones go.
There set in time is our great wisdom left behind.