(Standing stones near Penrith, Cumbria)<\/p>\n
Crouched in the grass of
\na windswept hill,
\nthese massive stones have seen
\nit all unfold.<\/p>\n
Our ancestors circling in
\nannual rituals of birth
\nand death, catching the
\nsun’s eternal rays.<\/p>\n
The deep forest, trackless
\nsince primordial time,
\ncut down for crops
\nand animal feed.<\/p>\n
Clashing armies, cutting
\nthrough the valleys,
\nspilling blood for
\ngain in land.<\/p>\n
Ghosts of riders, stealing
\ncattle, horses, firing
\nfarms in vengeful
\nlust for power.<\/p>\n
These lonely sentinels of
\ntransient human folly,
\ntell not the myth
\nof Meg’s last stand.<\/p>\n
More, they display the
\nancient wisdom found
\nin our dependent
\nlife on earth.<\/p>\n
Bound by seasons, held
\nto account by sun and
\ntide-turning moon
\nwe linger on.<\/p>\n
Witness stones, will you
\nbe here to record
\nthe earth’s revenge
\non our human pride?<\/p>\n