I look through a window of Tartarian mud
In search of an answer
For which no good question did ask.
In their skies I can smell vanilla.

Their story lies here, underfoot—I hear it
In the wringing of every broken bell
And orphan train, insane asylum—
To which I’ve grown accustom all too well.

If I could only follow a breadcrumb trail,
One and two and then another,
‘Til I come across the motherlode
Down a tunnel, so many millennia-laid ago.

May I happen upon monolithic stone?
A map carved out in dragon bone?—
To lands long-gone, held sacred, snowen’d?
To a world forgot, sealed, near unknown?

Perhaps then that mud,
Through which these eyes do vainly peer,
Will eventually one day crystallise
Into diamond ore, shone clear.

© Joseph Chin
#history #story #mystery #oldworld #tartaria #mudflood #greatreset #globalreset #alteredhistory #ancient