123 words
To walk among inhuman chapels
brings pain to heart and mind.
I see the flock, their eyes diverted,
from what shines from above.
There once was stone so pure and human,
once mined from the depths of the soul;
but those are gone, cold, forgotten,
empty as our reflection.
A flicker within is a monument without,
to stand against all time;
to tower high, from richest soils,
to live and never die.
Those times are gone, but still exist,
though hidden under moss;
the tree, the church, the barn and stable,
their shadows still are cast.
The masses they shall perish, and they shall
turn to dust, while some will tread upon them,
a phoenix, fire, wings of gold,
to carry on again.
1 comment
Lalande was perhaps thinking of the inspiring ruins of England’s medieval heritage such as Tintern Abbey. The evocative testimony of those stones is not yet silent, their living vigor can still be witnessed at Durham Cathedral and similar places.
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