A tumbled heap of lichened stones
A fallen cromlech on the ground
Earth scattered – its dissembled bones
Lie silent and mysterious

 

In ancient times this lonely place
Was once a mighty focus where
The hallowed rites of sacred space
Honoured the earth as glorious

Now wasteland, here the stones remain
Though fallen - still their secrets hold
Patient they wait, their power contained
To rise once more, victorious

Faint on the wind a phantom child
Calls from the past with wistful voice
Grieving the wisdom of a wild
Land once free and bounteous

Whispering of long forgotten days
When nature 's rhythmic ebb and flow
Shaped well the lore of human ways
And thus sustained prosperity

Heeding the call at turning tide
And with a giant leap of faith
Men, women, children, side by side
United in community

To raise the cromlech back on high
And seed the land with tree and flower
The stones placed poised against the sky
Restored for all eternity

Then on the wind new voices soared
Chanting aloud a hymn of hope
Singing the leys alive once more
Rejoicing and harmonious

Brenda Desborough 2010

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