Bones of Men

The dirt and stones conceal the bones of men
Who walked the earth where poets never die;
Whose lives are tied to tales and told again.

Some tried to change the world with just a pen;
Rarely did they give a reason why.
The dirt and stones conceal the bones of men.

Some they wrote of fate of mice and men;
Some of men of castles in the sky
Whose lives are tied to tales and told again.

A poet’s plight, beginning to the end,
Depends on words of worth to live or die.
The dirt and stones conceal the bones of men.

Those who hide the truth or just pretend
Will rarely reach the ranks of men who die;
Whose lives are tied to tales and told again.

The day will come to put away the pen
But there won’t be a need to say goodbye,
The dirt and stones conceal the bones of men
Whose lives are tied to tales and told again.

— Dean Hall