wedge tomb

Sun shafts from the south redden the stony solitude;

The strong septal stone and standing double walls warm;

The wide stone roof is the flat kathedra of time;

The cairn stones now compose the wind-sung enclosure.

To its grass-blade tips, this green field is soul unseen.

The tomb skirts the radiant impenetrable,

A higher meaning permeating the cosmos,

Beyond nature’s fundamental physical laws;

It does not require a god’s certified existence

For a look of wonder to earth epiphany.

Intrinsic value has no periodic chart;

It throbs, like love, in our impulsive eagerness

To be enchanted by stones, stars, space and meaning;

The sublime soaks stony lanes and the Milky Way,

Inescapable awe imbues our star-waste being.

We take the wonder to be objective and real;

In the mud-script of an ancient field read aright,

We return to the mud what we take from the mud;

We recite the poetics of stone to affirm our faith in value,

Renew a seasonal covenant with the gods of meaning.

Here souls sense something deeply moving, yes, numinous,

Belonging to a world that inspires devotion;

It matters utterly that human life goes well,

No matter the mystery that defies account

or the inexhaustible depth of a wedge tomb.

Sunset is a solemn moment of a time past, a time new;

It is not a sure sign of a singular creed;

It is when pilgrims listen to the roadside tales of others;

Voices find solid tone and connection where stone walls whisper;

Where horned sheep straggle shared stories make vulgar gospel.