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Ankh
is a little boy with many questions
Sometimes he has the answers.
On the thoughts he ponders some think he is a wonder
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Often
he would sit under his favourite tree
Feeling the night breeze as he watches the stars
Seeing objects blinking from far
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In
the light of day
He gazes at the people in his way
The little things we humans do
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The
patterns of living he loves to view
He likes to watch with a smiling view
His Mother taught him not to be rude
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One
day while sitting on a bench
He was fixing his bike with a monkey wrench
This stranger asked if he wanted a drink
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He
said no thanks in a blink
"No I do not wish to have a drink.
Especially something made of milk."
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The
stranger, she sat down on the bench
And said, "It's a beautiful day, God gives us strength."
Ankh is only nine so he holds his pride inside
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The
lady continued to speak ignorancefrom between her teeth
No longer does her present sweet
Ankh is ready to move his feet
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Almost
finished fixing the bicycle seat
As Ankh got ready to go
This stranger wanted to know
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"You
donąt believe in God... this is shown.
A child your age should not be alone
You should play games with other children you meet."
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The
stranger told she was the new female priest
Then she said God loves all wild Child
She said to Ankh you needed God inside
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"Come
and play with the other children, you'll be fine.
I will teach you about Jesus and Mary too.
You'll be fine I will teach you what to do."
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Talking
back to an adult
Often this is viewed as rude
He thanked her for her time and views
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Ankh
smiled as bided excuse
Later while watching the evening stars
In his journal he wrote his views
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Humans
judging intelligence because of age and size
Religions of the time in blind
Children or sheep(s) drone with silent weep
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Not
for this child of wise
For he knows the words of lies
Games of crimes teaching Children lies
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Humans
killing each other on all sides
Using religion of God to control the land
Their destruction of nature never done
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This
should not concern a child
If parents don't
teach about the time
Children grow up in a state of blind
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Ankh
is wise for his age and size
He cares not for nursery rhymes
He knows the figment of God comes form the imagination of men
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Smiling
in his sleep under the tree
He was awaken by gentle hands that lift him safely
Your dream was long she asked friendly
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"Do
you remember the story?"
She said dreaming is living memories
Some are new and some are old
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Ankh's
mother is a wise old soul
The knowledge she shares most don't know
She teaches history to the professors who want to know
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The
University for Teachers is Ankh's home
His Mother is Director of Ancient Knowledge
To Ankh she is worth more than gold
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Ankh
keeps a journal to write some of the stories she told
Some day he would like to be a teacher worth more than gold
To share stories no one else knows
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