A relic from the past,
preserved in a stony cast,
reveals a long lost story,
a tale habitually gory.
Remainder of an ancient life,
wiped out by calamity, so rife.
Dug out from deep cores,
to history it opens doors.
Conserved by happenstance,
excavated purely by chance.
Immortalised in stone,
all that remains is shell and bone.
Helps finding primitive roots,
foretells the day of doom.
Exhibited in a museum,
depicting forms so protean.
Plants and animals alike,
compressed in jagged pikes,
A timeless artefact,
exposed by nature’s tact.
A very few poet of PoemHunter has really that depth of being a matured poet. I am sure this poem affirm you that you have all the ingredients of being a poet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dug out from deep cores, to history it opens doors............and we are just in between as when day consumes beautiful whriten,10++++++