I’d anticipated more. More mystery, more magic, Or, some secret sign to have endured The silent witness of these standing stones. Hoping, that some remnant of intention Had remained; Revealing early windows Which Earth’s lost light could pierce To clear my opaque eyes.
Instead, I saw quite clearly The tool marks of dead men, Their crude labour overscored With careless carving from a modern hand.
“Sue ***** ***** for 50p”
Phone 9573
Come in the mouth of ecstasy”
And there was me; My squat thought wanting liberation.