We speak of cryptids in the breeze,
Or hiding deep in woods and trees,
And lurking in the lakes and seas,
But skeptics speak of blunder.
"You’re seeing things", they're quick to say;
It's all a hoax, or childish play.
Still, I believe in their own way,
That they all pause to wonder;
So many voices give them cause to wonder.
We point out truths they've all denied.
Request that science take a side.
They mock us and our words deride,
And silence all our thunder.
But in the hours when they're alone,
They look at hair or skin or bone,
Consider what we've always known,
And start to doubt and wonder.
They breathe a soft and solemn sigh and wonder
It seems that skeptics live in fear;
Dare not offend their friend or peer.
From cryptid science stand well clear,
And drive the field asunder.
But deep within a curious eye,
The skeptics often reason why,
Look at the earth, the sea the sky,
And in their heart they wonder.
Caught in the spell of silent hope, they wonder. |
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