- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Way (a poem by Whonunuwho)
There is a rift in the fabric of life, that has stretched across the ages.
A missing time with no recorded link, to solve, and no writing on the pages.
Before the ape that walked upright, and the days of me and you.
The years have fled, both days and nights, in all that we think and do.
In millions of years how could we exist, and skip a block of time.
Our creation was no mistake my friend, to live this life sublime.
From the stars eons away they came, visitors to this earth so plain,
Mixed and mingled with creatures here, and now this day to reign.
The scriptures hold the truth so real, and tells the story well.
In Genesis and on old Indian walls, of evolving from our shell.
Our intelligence improves with time, yet more rapidly ours than most.
We must all respect our origins now, as we bow before our host.
We believe in worship and we know this, it is the only way.
Our God has made us who we are, and with bowing heads ,we pray.