| The Quarryman | |
| 721 | The quarryman surveys his lot, |
| With years of mining done. | |
| The layers of the earth lay bare, | |
| Most granite stones expunged. | |
| 725 | And underneath those mighty rocks |
| The secrets of the land | |
| Revealed themselves to quarryman | |
| From pebbles and loose sand. | |
| Throughout the project he had found | |
| 730 | The types of myst’ries three – |
| The first of which were things you hide | |
| For never to be seen. | |
| Quite early in the harvest dig, | |
| He chanced on a sealed box. | |
| 735 | He fumbled for his heavy spade, |
| Then struck the pesky lock. | |
| Within were letters never sent, | |
| A love that could have been. | |
| But some revealed a jealousy | |
| 740 | Akin to spiteful sin. |
| The box was hidden here one day | |
| To aid someone forget – | |
| A purposeful concealment of | |
| A cache of life’s regrets. | |
| 745 | The second type of thing unearthed |
| Were knickknacks that were lost. | |
| These treasures found beneath the dirt | |
| Weren’t missed so much as dropped. | |
| The man collected pennies and | |
| 750 | He had a stash of beads, |
| But as he dug still further down | |
| He found antiquities. | |
| An arrowhead of flint revealed | |
| A tussle long ago – | |
| 755 | Perhaps a battle ‘tween two tribes, |
| Or hunting with a bow. | |
| And as the quarry rocks were broke | |
| By years of strain and toil, | |
| A fossil may appear as proof | |
| 760 | Of life lost in this soil. |
| Now as the project starts to wrap, | |
| The quarryman looks up. | |
| He sees the final mystery | |
| A hundred yards at once. | |
| 765 | The layers show not something lost, |
| Nor hidden for to find, | |
| But rather something that has grown, | |
| Developed over time. | |
| The folds of earth show gradu’l change, | |
| 770 | The shifting of the plates. |
| And rising granite falls submerged, | |
| A sed’ment cap its fate. | |
| Some pass their days by searching hard | |
| For meaning or for loot. | |
| 775 | They search and seek without relent |
| Like hunters in pursuit. | |
| But quarry shows this laborer | |
| Things hidden, lost, or grown | |
| Need not be sought, but can be found | |
| 780 | By looking ’round alone. |
Ballad of Man 
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