(ACSS) A Peom For The Ancients

Gone from memory, all that you were
By finding your bones and buildings,
Such great knowledge we hope to procure
With picks and shovels, brushes and pails
We find cups and bowls and all manner of artifact,
But not your great recipes, ceremonies, stories and tails

Dear ancient one, was the jewelry,
Robes, sceptor, and head-dress
Left to defend your spirit, or your gods impress?
I can visit your tombs or your humble abode
See your pictures of the snake, the eagle, a toad
But where are the instuctions to soothe a child,
To calm crys, or fix toothaches bad or mild?

Maybe it's right there in the walls of your Forts
In the layout of crypts, like a time capsul of sorts
Is the layout of temples, paintings of war and risk
Information stored for us like an ancient floppy disk?
Can we use a Dell, an H.P. or an Apple, some device
To crack your code, to understand, know your advice?

How did you keep your time, say I love you,
play games, make friends, what did you do?
Did you know of great patterns in the stars,
Did you write it all on paper in jars?
Is all of it gone, lost, never for us to learn?
Or is it a hidden gift, through effort for us to earn?

Surely you wanted to give to generations to come,
All that you knew, felt, thought, your love of the sun.
It's hard to believe that all you were,
All you knew, is gone to be sure.
But then again maybe thats why like you, you poor sod,
We believe in an afterlife, a spirit, a god.
Who among us wants to think, wants to believe,
When we're gone bones and buildings is all we'll leave.

Ancient friends, you may have left no text,
no scroll, no record of the things you saw.
I'm sure you'd marvel at the times that came next,
Be amazed and drop your jaw.
But Dear Ancients we still find fascination in you,
And try to learn all those great things YOU knew.

Touching? Nice work though, like the "We believe in an afterlife, a spirit, a god.
Who among us wants to think, wants to believe,
When we're gone bones and buildings is all we'll leave. "
Part.

Kewl poem, and welcome to the competition my friend. The field is getting thick and the talent even thicker.

Love and light,

Wupy

Good Story!

Who among us wants to think, wants to believe,
When we're gone bones and buildings is all we'll leave.

I think it reminds me that our time here is short, less than a blink in the fabric of time.

Good Luck to you!