Days Of Our Oracle Poem by George Samuel

Take a distance with me
The future is after today
This hope you see stool from our fathers too
And made them tattered priest and taboos
Of the false oracles only the rivers down the mountain were true
Send with a signal let it mingle
It is our blood and witness to our children's wrinkle
So when they grow the hand pit hair it should not get gray
Like servants of the oracles who were in disarray
Let us dress our shadows and be our children's oracles
Of digging under the rain
Waving off our own sweat reaping under the sun
Give the sun the things that are the sun
Things that are the rain the rain
Before we pass the age of our oracle