National Poetry Month, Archeological Treasure, and a Fool’s Day

It being the first day of National Poetry Month, I’d thought I’d share a poem recently found in Scotland during an archeological dig. Researchers believe that the book the poem is a part of is an ancient history book that records the demise of an ancient people or race after it was nearly destroyed by hostile forces. An army? A dragon? We don’t know…yet.

Far beneath the pikes of rock and snow,
we’ve carved our homes, and broke our bones
upon the stones that feel no sun.
Deep, deep, we dig. Our work’s not done.

Here we touch the fangs of demon cold
and learn the songs of death and ice
etched on the stones that feel no sun.
Deep, deep we dig. Our work’s not done.

But rest will come when death is born
and the great dark opens its doors.
We’ll walk the stones that feel no sun.
Deep, deep in hell, our work’s not done.

 

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