Primitive yet basic to survive,
As folk through early ages lived and died,
Repeat the poundings, grinding so they’d thrive
on nuts and grain; mashed, muddled, crushed inside.
And generations did their trials abide,
Connected spirits with this planet’s fate,
A simple life, hard fought but satisfied
their struggles and their scars would soon abate.
Ensuring offspring ne’er obliterate,
If tribal ways were carried on, passed down
from son to son, and daughters in their wake
Secured the legend and the lore profound.
Pressed circles within circles form the bowl,
Bespeaking ancient ways in wood enscrolled.