The Handless Prophet

I sat down with the handless prophet
To learn his wisdom endless but
Alas! The handless prophets spoke broken English
So I learned in other ways
He showed me a far and forgotten city
Once grand and monumental
It’s halls carried labyrinths of tombs and tunnels
With dry bones of high kings of old
And libraries filled, waiting to be read
And secrets to be told
In a flash the city lay in ruins and the towers turned to rubble
And the tunnels filled and the books were buried
Then the prophet began to mumble
“Where was I?” I screamed, “What was that place?”
But the handless prophet wouldn’t say
For I saw the city sunk in sand
And no one knew it’s name

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