I know not whose bones these are, 
Or how they came to be 
In this dark, forbidding land 
Where freedom is not free 
They could not be a solider 
Who fought the endless war 
Those bones were all cremated 
And spread across the moor 
A merchant is more likely 
For they are prone to roam 
Throughout the barren country 
Without a solid home 
But where is their caravan? 
Why were they left behind? 
Was their death organic, 
Or had it been designed? 
I dare not disturb their rest 
To solve this mystery 
Instead, I'll say a prayer 
For their delivery  
"May their spirit find its way 
Through the eternal night 
Coming to the golden shore 
To rest within the light."  
I know not whose bones these are 
Buried within the peat 
But I know without a doubt 
That soon, our souls shall meet.  

If you enjoyed this poem, then you will enjoy my upcoming poetry collection By The Bones! Coming Halloween 2020!

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