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Reflections on.

An ancient past.

Of Iron and Bronze.

Look through glass.

Far in flames.

Betwixt fire’s wrath.

Molten cascades.

From a risen cask.

Taught to honour

The Sun;

Venerating His dune.

For Her calmer disposition;

They prayed to the Moon.

Each setting over rock-

stone henges.

And, the burial mound’s

vowed avenges.

Where sounds of crowds

proudly stretches.

To worship in

clovered hop

excesses.

Equinoxed

solstice.

And, lunar cycle.

In rocks exalted.

For future’s tribal.

Their props

were faulted.

In sutures vital.

Stone boxes haunted.

By ruler’s title.


© poormansdreams

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