Rubbing's Etchings

On the cold harden stone carvings names remain, Charcoal etchings sketching’s, rubbing’s of forgotten history, Textured rows of this human bone yard called a cemetery. Rough carved gray monuments to life’s fragileness, Isolation chambers of remembrance lie hidden beneath This earthen soil, as for-get-me=knots floral arrangements Garnish these graves of emotional attachments. Fossilized vessels of mankind’s historical legacy, Layers of preservation evidence that we existed, Satisfied and blessed time capsules for the future, Lie within these human skeletonized bone fields, For later discovery to investigate. As thin as the paper lain against these stones Of textured graving, are the vials between Us and our extinction, life is a fleeting gift To be celebrated not thrown away ever so lightly. I’ll kick against the tides of life, striving to Thrive and survive, for I’m a branch of extension, Spiritual Connected to the tree of humanity, And my roots have grown in the richness of Traditions roots of mine ancestors, thus One stone downwards from thy kindred. Ever rocking is the head stone of the ages, It sways with the endurable chiming rhythm Of the timeless sands, flowing through the Hourglass of our global atmosphere. Walking amongst these bricks of stood, As idle soldiers at the ready for discoveries, Shovel blades, I ponder the thoughts that They may evoke in the future world of Tomorrow. Oh in the harvesting of the dinosaurs leavenings, We’ve written our own biography’s sinnario, One day to be exposed to the light of infinity, For no single entity lasts forever, nor species Shine beyond extinctions mighty wrath. After all is it not true that the key to understand The future, is to unlock the past. On the cold harden stone carvings names remain, Charcoal etchings sketching’s, rubbing’s of forgotten history, Textured rows of this human bone yard called a cemetery. BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN