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Precious Stone 

Many days seem to run a race, keeping an epical pace.
From dawn to dusk the relentless speed pays no heed.
Each moment worth its weight in gold even when the new
Becomes the old. 
I heard many stories told of this lost reality of a place beyond the sea,
Of a realm beneath the sun and moon that built their homes from bamboo trees.
A village fresh and strong, that worked the whole day long;
Some had gardens that plant the seeds of life, some 
Seeds grew weeds and they were plucked away from their growing greed. 
Some were blacksmiths that shoed the horses and fired
The swords for battle courses.
Some were bakers of bread and pies filling the air with tempting smells and made grown men run towards
The dinner bells.
There was a treasure in the village hall, it was a Jade four feet tall,
A precious stone almost as old as time, its soft luster
Brought a calming glow, it soothed the deep sorrows of all the stone came to know. 
It is believed the stone contained the spirits of an Ancient Emperor and his family line,
It kept their golden ways to heal the scars of ruthless times.
One touch would set them free and let them see what the world became to be.
Centuries are calling to the villagers of this realm,
There is a reckoning searching for the brave, to bring these imprisoned spirits to the silence of their graves, 
To no longer to be held as a disembodied slave.
Perhaps the stone is calling to become unmade.
Ancient healing that dwells within this Jade, the whispers of the past that will not fade.

©Allseasnsverse 2019/11/01
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Precious Stone