Step light and kindly by the ancient barrows, <br />hillforts and earthworks. They had their sanctuaries, <br />their groves, horses under purple cloudset <br />of their once-day twilights; the shredded hours <br />of history fused in their greybird lands <br />of cavern, stone and woodflame, bear and bison. <br /> <br />You tread upon minutes of their gravebeds, <br />you of tissue media, dead fashion sheets <br />and vaporous words; their falcon underthoughts <br />have marked their distances, yet memories <br />still enter graven in your deepest dreams, <br />their potency diminished, but strong enough <br />to stir the archimandrite in your head.<br /><br />Eric Ratcliffe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/advent-v/
