I am Spelt.  I speak here for all the ancient grains--the ancient ones.

          I am Spelt.  Once a large part of humanity depended on me.  I fed them happily.  It was my joy to serve.

          I am Spelt.  Newer grains were born.  Man changed them to suit his needs.  He forgot me.

          I am Spelt.  I did not have harsh feelings for either man or my cousins.  Instead, I sat and waited.  I was ready to serve again, my value still intact.

          I am Spelt.  Some have rediscovered me, though not as many as before.  History has come full circle.

          I am Spelt.  I know my value.  I do not need outside validation.  I do not need others to tell me that I matter.  Even if I had been totally forgotten, I would remember myself.