Words emerged from alphabets

born of tongues the world forgets,

hieroglyphics from a wall

their echo sent to teach us all.

The documented “Rites of Spring”

the histories that they danced within,

so frantic that they lost all breath

their language spoke itself to death.

Yet here we stand at Babel’s Gate,

tongues still tied, is it too late?

to learn from lessons unobserved,

at last their treasured message heard.