The Stones

[Hawkman]

Their shadows sleeping on a bed of grass
the ever-wakeful rocks stand guard.
These enduring sentinels,
rooted in the sacred past,
hallowed by intent and age,
are touched once more by flaming light
as evening’s cooling ember
stains the clouds.

Stroke one, it will feel you,
draw you into spirit realms
and purge false faith’s infection.

But this union’s denied
by guards and fences.

So turn away, turn West,
drive towards the setting sun
and marvel at the painted sky.

Beneath its bright infernal glow
the world burns,
and now the clouds are ash against
an ochre shroud,
torn, revealing perfect blue,
the iris of infinity,
darkening with time.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This has the depth and the nuances and the changes of an entire, somewhat grim opera. Magnificent lines and images and above all, an irresistible narrative forward motion!

[AuntShecky]

I was going to say that there's a bit of a pathetic fallacy going on here, but then I remembered that the Ancients believed that spirits lived within rocks (as well as everything in nature--trees, streams, etc.) In that case the idea that the stones in your poem are somehow sentient make sense. The closing lines are particularly artful.

Is this about Stonehenge? That the stones are guarded and behind fences is the clue.
PS
I just did a quick run in the "Google" machine because I remember hearing or reading something about rocks and stones having a "death wish." I'll look up the Seamus Heaney poem the Google lists, but for some reason I think I heard that the notion came from-- of all people --a scientist! Einstein? Nah, that can't be right. It sounds Jungian, maybe that's it. I'll keep looking when I gots the time.

[Hawkman]

Hi Prince. thanks for reading and dropping me a line. I suppose it does read as a little Wagnerian but you had to be there! What a sunset, what a sky...

Hi Auntie, As you rightly surmise, the stones are those of the mighty henge. I had to film a race meeting at Larkhill last Saturday, only a couple of miles from the site. As The evening drew on I dropped in at the henge on my way home. I was unable to commune with any intimacy with the spirits of the past though, due to the afor mentioned guards and fences. I did manage to take a couple of photos though. The last time I saw them it was just after sunrise on 8th April 2008. I was driving to Dover and passed Stonehenge. The grass was still rimed with frost and a mist hung low over the plain. The stones seemed to float in the mist.

But on Saturday the sunset was impressive, and, as I drove home, I had ample time to observe the change in lighting effects as the sun settled to its rest.

There was a time when you could just walk up to the henge and commune with the past. It seems this is now illegal, at least without the payment of a fee and prior arrangement. Then you have to be supervised by a burley security guard in a flourescent lime green jacket. Rather spoils the atmosphere for me!

Couldn't say about megalithic deathwishes though.

Live and be well - H

[MorpheusSandman]

This is a gorgeous, incredibly rich and mystical piece, Hill. The real triumph here is how you captured the sense of grand, mysterious antiquity that we react to works like Stonehenge with, hat sense of the unknown and transcendental. I've read it several times just to bathe in the sensory evocation of that last stanza, which is certainly the most mysterious, yet equally the most profound.

[Hawkman]

Thanks Morpheus, I'm very happy that you enjoyed it so much.

Live and be well - Hawk. :D