Standing Stone
At certain times
My standing stone will pierce
The darkness of your passage,
Into your tomb-like womb,
Illuminated into life,
My shaft where it belongs
Splashing white rays upon
The walls of your chamber.
We and the land are one,
A miracle of being, with the
Rising and setting sun,
Symbol of worship and love,
Our reasons and destiny defined,
Flashings of men and sunlight,
Against the dark of night
Regenerated, reborn, upright.
Our alignments our portal
Piercing necessary gaps,
Our monuments of flesh
Erected and responding
To the natural world,
The avenue that leads
Into the mysterious
Holy centre of your henge.
January 2013.
Copyright by D. J. Brennan, Derbyshire.
