I've heard stories
from The Elders
of an ancient people
who arose from ground.

They were the original caretakers
of the land.
They came up just after the sun
was made by
the Glorious Makers,
whose spirits wafted
about space
to create and shape
matter.

The Ancients
were said to still breathe words
if you felt for them,

so I sat beside a small willow
touching the dirt beneath me,
then digging my hands in it,
then pulling myself into it.

The tips of my fingers
began to grow roots,
stretching deeper into the soil,
trying to soak in the spirits
of the past
and learn their ways.

I began to see
a family
who walked up to me
and said,

"Welcome,
you may now see
the story
of our people.

"You may know them as
The Ancients."

They led me
through a world
very different
from our own.
The spirit world and our own
were one,
and spirits were busy at work.

Mountains, hills, valleys,
still being built.
Rivers, cliffs, caves
still being carved.

The mother said,

"We are
The Guidance
of those in our world to come
to learn and to teach our ways."

She stood and showed me
a group of far away people coming
from the ground.

"They are to be
the ancestors
of your people."

They arose happy
in a state of peace,
looking stimulated
and curious
by
a busy world
Grateful,
just to see it being made

These were my people.

Why couldn't we stay
like them?
Grateful for all
we have been given
connecting to Earth
and realizing
there is much to be learned
and much to be seen,
remaining curious
and stimulated
by even the simplest thing.

Existence.

To be part of this power,
so great and so intriguing,
is such an honor.

The family's father
held tight
to my hand.

"Young man,
you understand the message
you must bring home.
Now, you must go."

In a flash,
a spirit swiped me away,
and after a blink
I was back by the willow,
my roots retracting.

I felt the nourishment
soaked onto my fingers
streaming into the rest of my body
ready
to stream to others.

I now can tell the story
on my own,
for I
have seen
The Ancients.