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Wednesday, 26 March 2014


The stones; they loom dominantly against the night's murky sky, awash with a purple stain.
Such a megalith or henge is of an age gone by, of a generation lost but yet they endure and remain
Shrouded in mystery, steeped in the undisclosed, cloaked in legend, in ancient myths of old. 
From mouth to mouth throughout the dawns of time; their legacy, is now a story untold
Oh why did our ancestors build such triumphs; these magnificent structures of wonder and awe?
Our minds hypothesise, deliberate; search futilely for archeological clues and aspire to learn more.
I sense a magnetic pull towards them; my spirit, my soul commanded as if within them I do belong
Betwixt the stones, the wind moans her sweet melody and hypnotises with familiar, alluring song
In times of crisis I feel compelled to make a pilgrimage, so as to find some needed solace there
Their calming, gentle energy invigorates my sense of well-being and with me their peace they share
The sovereignty of these majestic landmarks still evades comprehension and civilisations through time
We can only know what we observe; how beautifully they channel light, running accordant to lay lines
Even though we have unearthed the scattered remnants of our forefathers, foremothers and their illustrious artefacts
Despite us and what we've dug, burned, plundered; these sites stand, still - largely remaining bewilderingly intact
Perhaps we are missing the point; they were not built for what we perceive as a practical function.
Maybe, instead, their essence remains untainted, pure, mystical and beyond our presumption
I believe this is how it was meant to be; so through them we can acknowledge their celestial grace
To be inspired and enlightened by their divine reverie, within such a philosophical place.

© Debbie Razey 2014