Stonehenge
Snow
sifts in clouded silence
through skies, dark as eternity.
The great stones stand
resolute, dusted with fragments
of forgotten faith.
The ancient souls who built the circle
have long since flown the Earth.
Songs of worship shimmer in the stillness.
Millennia ago, when the great plain was shrouded
in the mists of eons,
they knew the sacred wonder of the rising Sun,
the greatest of Gods, who called them
to move, with impossible purpose, the giant stones.
Clouds part. Moonlight spills to illuminate the circle,
lucent and crystalline with snow.
And a thousand eyes—
even still—
witness their solemn, soaring grace
from beyond the stars.
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