The Forgotten Language

A poem about the history of Earth as told by the rocks

Once there was a wise man
who read every book
of every library
of every kingdom of man
and yet didn’t understand the world

He thought of the oceans and the mysteries they hold
of the rivers that meander as they grow old
of the dunes that move as the wind blows
of the seas of mountains that burst through the clouds and pierce the skies
and wondered
how all this came to be?

And so, to answer these questions
of many subjects and kinds
the same wise man
who read every book
of every library
of every kingdom of man
began to walk

He crossed valleys and gullies and plains
swamps and rivers and deserts
beaches and mountains and cliffs
until he perceived
that the floor beneath his feet
and the walls that he could see
were not solid, but coloured
and began to change

They were made of pieces of all shapes and sizes
some porous and fragile and light
some hard and heavy and shiny
that were all combined
and that, with no exception
cracked, broke off and were captured
and carried by miles and miles
until, eventually, became sand
and were left again to pile
in a temporary place of burial
until the ground rose again

And so the man who traveled
by sea and by land
the same wise man
who read every book
of every library
of every kingdom of man
realised that there were things left unread
and that the biggest books that existed
were scattered through the land
in the valleys and gullies and plains
swamps and rivers and deserts
beaches and mountains and cliffs
waiting to be read

And so the man who traveled
by sea and by land
the same wise man
who read every book
of every library
of every kingdom of man
set to read the books of nature
written in stone, for millions and millions of years