What do you say when there’s nothing to see?
Where no boxes, tablets, windows of light
Can show our minds, memories and myths.

Who will tell us of the world?
Once again, a wandering band
No longer connected,
broke free of our copper strands.

We know of so much,
but never once spoke,
The lost art of narration,
Oh how the mighty fall in a night.
And yesterday’s trivial past times,
now the source of all healing and joy.

Speak loud your tale!

Our ears hungry and minds starved,
As greedy children we never once said,
Thank you mother, father,
for your stories before bed.

With so much we Gorged and devoured,
Before we realised we are always empty,
Time wipes away all that we hold

except!

for the storyteller,
The true judge of our history,
The holder of our truths.
It was this god you needed to please - for else,

who will know of your name?