It might be enjoyable to find a fossil (in this case, an ammonite in the Lower Inferior Oolite), extract it and clean it up as a trophy. But, as usual, there is another point of view. . .
If this is Heaven, I have to say
It’s not what I expected.
Until you came and chipped me out,
I’d lain there, undetected.
(Two hundred million years ago
My softer tissues died.
They made me what I am today
Whilst resident inside;
But, once decayed, they left a void
That calcite couldn’t fill.
I miss my innards: in my dreams
I feel they’re in there, still.)
I’d heard of resurrection, but
I never thought I’d see it
Until I heard your eager cry:
“Once more – there, that should free it!”
It was a shock to find myself
Exhumed, then cleaned and dried.
Hey, where has all the water gone
In which I lived and died?
This place is dry! That can’t be right.
The view fills me with terror;
Please put me back, I’ve seen enough.
There must have been an error,
I didn’t ask to be dug up.
(I think I’ve just seen through it:
This isn’t Heaven at all – it’s Hell!)
Why did you have to do it?