"The Ancient Ones (poem)" by Frances Sylverwolffe Gibbs

Passing stranger, come – sit down,

For I have chosen YOU today...

So sit and rest your weary feet,

and mind; list well to what I say!

For now I tellest none but thee

The Secrets of Our ancient hist'ry

And even then it's riddled through

With hidden streaks of myth and myst'ry...

Yes, We are the guardians of time

The Wise ones Who will ever last,

To tell the foolish, just like you,

Of Us, the wondrous Dragons past!

We cast the magick, say the rhyme,

That stirrs the sleeping, shifting sands

We created the magick We use

And passed it on to other hands.

But when We see the time-tower tumbling,

We'll shake Our tired heads and sigh,

And leave this world, so frail and crumbling

And then beyonde these worlds We'll fly.

We'll soar through time, through eternity!

Until We find another place,

We'll recreate Our history,

And give Ourselves another face.

Although the strangers will not know

Even then, We'll be the same.

And all to do to reveal Our truth

Is whisper out Our Hidden name…

Sylverwolffe