Friday, 13 November 2009

The Raven and the Stones

The scrum of stones stood gaunt upon the horizon,
A defiant silhouette of black stone skittles,
Lit by the flickers of distant red lightning,
And there on the rocks a wise raven waited,
Upon the Great Trilithion of the giant dancers,
For the sun to shine upon the Heel Stone,
At dawn on the solstice, beneath the ice moon,
So the sacred pageant could process again,
And dance its way between the mighty sarsens.

Raven bore a trinity of berries within his belly,
The seeds of Cerridwen, stolen from her cauldron,
Eaten by Taliesin before his transformations,
Then found by wise raven between his bare bones,
Three sloes of mistletoe, the bane of Balder,
Still fresh as the fluttering flakes of new snow,
That fell in sacred silence upon the morning,
Of the first solstice at infant earths creation.

Raven flapped his wings and sang a song of life,
Awaiting the golden sickle of dawn to rise,
And reap the withered pod of the old year,
That staggers to its death in late December,
Sowing from his song, a bright new seed of sun,
Which blooms anew in Junes golden garden,
In the sultry heat of the summers passions.

There amidst a trellis of stars and constellations,
Whose stations align to usher in the ceremony,
A wolf moon whispered to the restless winds,
Which swept the wide plains with wild gyres,
“ Here ghosts still walk between the worlds “,
She whispered, conspiratorial amidst the clouds,
“ Persisting even now, as stubborn as the stones,
Of Stonehenge, who rise on their high haunches
Stretching forth from earth to paw at the sky,
Hunting the eye of pilgrims like hungry lions,
Who seek healing from the leechcraft of the stones. “

This sacred clock that counts in centuries,
The aeons and empires as they rise and fall,
Marking the Great Year of the Platonic cycle,
Remains defiant against all invaders,
A mighty citadel of the sun, marking time,
And the turning of seasons, unto infinity,
For all the mystery and magic of Albion remains,
As stubborn today as the pale mask of moss,
Which whiskers forth from the North side,
Where sunlight and rain brings the rock to life,
With a simple magic that few ever notice,
As they position their cameras in passing,
And smile as they pose for holiday pictures.

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