The rushing rivers falling fast
With fury born on high,
Cut deep and into ages past
Where fossil forests lie.
In death these lonely trees turn stone,
But titan trees are proud
To lie together, still alone;
A stone-cold silent shroud.
The arthropods, like trilobites,
Once flourished until fate
Sent them to depths devoid of light
As salt-beds turned to slate.
Embedded now on root and limb
They serve as righteous crown;
Pre-Cambrian volcanic whim
Condemned these trees to drown.
A loneliness prevails as mood
Among these ancient trees
And I embrace this interlude
Of shared eternities.
The mighty trees now petrified
Lie prone and hard as stone;
Once young with pride personified,
Now ancient and alone.
Time's grand illusion quickly flees
As I begin to cast
My own respectful eulogies
To quiet grandeur past.
As trees of stone succumbed to sea
No human soul was there
To witness somber majesty
Become majestic prayer.
A primal wisdom follows youth
If minds will realign
And recognise the splendid truth
Hard-bound inside this shrine.
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