Mystery of History
The mystery of history
In rocks, stones and shards.
Captured in legend
By mystics and bards.
The wisdom of ages.
The lives that are long gone.
Remembered in the landscape;
Revered in poetic song.
Standing in the circle
With the setting of the sun.
Breathing in the ambience
From days when all was one.
The warmth of the stones,
Full of memories and hope;
A living reminder –
The dreams of human scope.
All the mists of time
Now shroud reality
From a distant age
When nature was divinity.
Close to the seasons
Though hard, cruel and true.
When life was simple
And we knew what we should do.
Now in the age of plastic
Where change is the new god;
Where cash is the gospel
We live far from the sod.
Communicating with electricity
Across the wastes of space.
We seem to own everything
But have lost our sense of place.
Opher – 8.7.2021
Fresh back from Cornwall, having stood in the Stone circles, visited coits and Iron Age villages, with a sense of wonder.
Connecting to the past.
Looking out from those rugged places it felt like I was looking through the eyes of my ancestors.
Life was hard but they were in tune with nature and felt at home in the land.
This modern world is all plastic and speed but lacks any connection.
I feel at home in a stone circle. The stones have warmth.