Thirty-five thousand years ago,
they walked on this land.
And then they disappeared,
hard for the mind to understand.
For they were clearly human,
and they walked with ease.
Like lovers stroll at sunset,
and feel the onshore breeze.
Time has made the imprint,
forever cast in stone.
We were not the first to this place,
and we were not alone.
The key to our future,
may lie in our past.
Why some of us have prospered,
and why some of us have passed.
What was their life like?
A question hard to ask.
They left few clues behind them,
a monumental task.
But slowly we will piece together,
the mystery of their lives.
For our future depends upon it,
like bees depend on hives.
More Poems
My Place
Read War's End, the Novel
Copyright 2006 © Ronald W. Hull