A poem inspired the Funerary Stele of Zezen-Nakhet

What can be learned

From these stories told

But not understood?

Why this world turned?

Was it cold, the future foretold?

What was suppose to be understood?

These stories told

Yet untold to us...

We have no understanding

Or, at least, no proof

That what we think we're understanding

Is actually truth.

We think we know

What these thing say

But do we really?

Or is it all...

All the stories and myths and legends....

Is it all possibly...

Just a best guess?

Can we prove the stories we've been telling...

Are actually fact, and not fiction...?

And perhaps our facts are fiction,

Our fiction fact?

Each glyph means something

But to common eyes, nothing.

“Just pictures” to some, to most

Some claim they know what they mean

But no proof exists to prove them

Either right nor wrong.

So to say these stories

Are told yet untold.

Understood yet...

Not understood.

History lost...

Yet it was recorded in stone

On papers, culture written

Meaningless to the average

Because we can't understand what it says

Or what it means...

Pictures for our guessing,

1,000 words for the bidding!

Each picture worth more then that

But 1,000 words is all we're giving.

Worlds untold

Telling what the ancients knew

But we can't decipher.

Stories and history

Loses and victory

Lost information chiseled

And carefully carved for us

Somehow we lost it...

This little piece of history...

Is nothing less then a welcome

A welcome to mystery.

Let your imagination tell

These stories told

Yet unknown.