Brett Lock

Who’d have thought ten thousand years
could pass before these very eyes
would fall upon my last remains
my bones, my dust, before you lies

When I was laid in these foothills
the night passed by like lifting fog
the river’s cry could give you chills
migration’s end my epilogue.

I never saw this promised land
my flesh came dust came desert sand
came human kind, came tribes of war
came still bones, then came more
came feet, came feet, came feet, came wheel
came oar, came sail, came rumbling steel
and as you look towards the sun
beneath this earth I’m still someone

Where we’re lost we will be found
in time by she who understands
ten thousand years before my bones
were held again in gentle hands