"WHERE MEMORIES COME TO REST"
Friday, 12 June 2015
My son, you are the heir to all my wealth & riches,
But nothing I leave you is of golden sewn stitches,
No jewels, no gemstones, not silver nor bright gold,
There´s no money in banks, nor grand properties old.
But son, I will leave you treasures so very worthwhile,
Far older than Amazonia, Taj Mahal, or wild wide Nile,
I shall bestow upon you, all that´s un-seen & un-scribed,
Your inheritance my son, shall be the lost secrets of tribes.
I shall leave you old stories, tales, poetry & long gone songs,
Secret messages hidden, within voices of drums & old gongs,
The magic of spices, & curative power of mountain top herbs,
You will have too, the languages of beasts & pretty wild birds.
When I am gone, you will be endowed with all that´s unseen,
With all that´s not understood, & of everything that has been,
Not the wealth of all men, that will merely cause you strife,
I shall bequeath to you my son, the very enigma of this life.
6/12/2015 07:01:00 pm
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