There is a spear left in the sand,

On ancient blood soaked shores.

After countless battles,

Countless truces,

And vows to repent,

Someone has left behind a spear.

Buried.

A splinter for another generation to uncover.

There is a seed planted in our midst,

Impregnating our fears and exciting our desires.

This enticing toy waits within us all,

Like Pandora’s box.

A needle in our hearts.

We have tripped over a spear,

In our long walk through complacency.

To hide our heads now along with this land mine,

Is not an option available.

Ignorance can not be relied upon.

We glimpse the tip of something horrible,

Thus we begin the archeology of our souls.

Alex Hill 9/21/01