Archaeologist
(c) QE3
I am an archaeologist.
I survey the vast landscapes, so open and overflowing with promise,
like a single piece of the unsolved jigsaw puzzle.
Part of the answer to the nagging questions,
“How did they do that?”
“Who were they?”
“Why?”
A land of promise,
a treasure trove of secrets waiting to be discovered.
I am an archaeologist.
I hear the whisper of the wind on my face,
the shifting of the golden sands beneath my feet.
If I listen hard enough, I imagine I can hear the sounds of the people.
Ancient people.
The children that laughed, thousands of years ago,
the same laugh of the children today: gleeful and careless.
The mothers and elders, their stories told over and over again by the light of a burning fire,
and the hunters, rejoicing from their day’s success among a feast to end all feasts.
I am an archaeologist.
I feel an ache of excitement as I work hard, patiently, and diligently,
sometimes to great discoveries and other times to “no such luck.”
My hands are rough and dusty from the seemingly endless excavations.
My mind is open and excited at the prospect of unraveling a new mystery everyday.
I am an archaeologist.
I see past the worn, harsh deserts and the endless, grassy plains to the promises that they hold.
I try and see the landscapes in the same eyes as the people before me.
I gaze up at the same blue sky,
when I look down, I find myself amidst the same golden desserts they walked upon many years ago.
If I close my eyes, I see the children running,
the hunters sharpening weapons and fashioning tools from animal bone and stones.
Sometimes, I even pretend I am one of these people.
I walk the same paths they walked, I sit around the remains of a fire they’d once used.
I see the world as they would have seen it.
I am an archaeologist.
I take my job seriously, uncovering the objects that will tell the unaltered truth of what life was like long, long ago.
I am a dreamer, a believer.
M y hands are two of the many in the world that are slowly, carefully
piecing together the mysterious puzzle that is early mankind.
(c) QE3
I am an archaeologist.
I survey the vast landscapes, so open and overflowing with promise,
like a single piece of the unsolved jigsaw puzzle.
Part of the answer to the nagging questions,
“How did they do that?”
“Who were they?”
“Why?”
A land of promise,
a treasure trove of secrets waiting to be discovered.
I am an archaeologist.
I hear the whisper of the wind on my face,
the shifting of the golden sands beneath my feet.
If I listen hard enough, I imagine I can hear the sounds of the people.
Ancient people.
The children that laughed, thousands of years ago,
the same laugh of the children today: gleeful and careless.
The mothers and elders, their stories told over and over again by the light of a burning fire,
and the hunters, rejoicing from their day’s success among a feast to end all feasts.
I am an archaeologist.
I feel an ache of excitement as I work hard, patiently, and diligently,
sometimes to great discoveries and other times to “no such luck.”
My hands are rough and dusty from the seemingly endless excavations.
My mind is open and excited at the prospect of unraveling a new mystery everyday.
I am an archaeologist.
I see past the worn, harsh deserts and the endless, grassy plains to the promises that they hold.
I try and see the landscapes in the same eyes as the people before me.
I gaze up at the same blue sky,
when I look down, I find myself amidst the same golden desserts they walked upon many years ago.
If I close my eyes, I see the children running,
the hunters sharpening weapons and fashioning tools from animal bone and stones.
Sometimes, I even pretend I am one of these people.
I walk the same paths they walked, I sit around the remains of a fire they’d once used.
I see the world as they would have seen it.
I am an archaeologist.
I take my job seriously, uncovering the objects that will tell the unaltered truth of what life was like long, long ago.
I am a dreamer, a believer.
M y hands are two of the many in the world that are slowly, carefully
piecing together the mysterious puzzle that is early mankind.
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