I walk across the desert floor
and before me find a key to history
from a time long ago.
A spearpoint chipped from rosy flint,
lying amongst the limestone rocks,
untouched by man for ten thousand years.
Questions cross my mind
and I can't help but to wonder,
did this spearpoint kill a winter's meal?
A deer, an antelope, or a buffalo?
Did it lie here in a carcass
or was it simply discarded,
damaged after use?
Did the hunter miss his kill,
his spearpoint broken and left
to lie here on the desert floor,
waiting to be found
and to excite questions in my mind,
questions about a past long gone.
Who knows what dreams
this spearpoint has touched
in the millenia since its creation?
Dreams of hunters long ago
and dreams of modern man
of times long past?
Who knows what it was
this spearpoint dreamt,
as it lay here for so long
amongst the rocks in the desert sun,
abandoned and forgotten
on this rocky desert floor?
by Troy and Marla Hibbitts, March 1997