’Tis the night to gather the stones
To speak to our ancestors
Who live beyond their tired old bones
By being trapped in these ambers
For in these stones their simulations lie
Perfect copies of their being
So their wisdom shall never die
And so we can benefit from their foreseeing
For most days they spend beyond time
In their simulated sphere
Where there exist wonders sublime
And all possible futures seem clear
So tonight we shall hear from these old souls
With minds beyond our ken
That we tend to keep hidden in holes
To keep safe from the world of men
Copyright © 2003 by Thomas R.
