At Warehouse I wander
As light seeps from the sky
Among the cold, grey tombs
Of the ancient dead
In this timeless landscape
So remote and lonely
Forgotten tongues whisper
With the wind through the heather
A harvest moon
Not yet quite full
Is the only witness
To the truth of these stones
My spine tingles
The mind races
I smell the smoke
Of my forebears cremations
And as I leave
The moon a guardian
Over these distant graves
I sense communion
Written after visiting the Warehouse Chambered Cairns on 26th August 2015.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
At Warehouse I wander
As light seeps from the sky
Among the cold, grey tombs
Of the ancient dead
In this timeless landscape
So remote and lonely
Forgotten tongues whisper
With the wind through the heather
A harvest moon
Not yet quite full
Is the only witness
To the truth of these stones
My spine tingles
The mind races
I smell the smoke
Of my forebears cremations
And as I leave
The moon a guardian
Over these distant graves
I sense communion
Written after visiting the Warehouse Chambered Cairns on 26th August 2015.
