Stone Circles

The Words of the Stone Circle

If that ring of stones in Wales were words, to me or to you
Carved-out and planted straight and firm
To be sung down through many generations
Of people who, those first thought, could never change,
Then I would like to know what they might mean.
What God did they call upon to offer explanation
For the earth and sky and stars, to me and everyone?
What great rounded way of thought did they discover
That a perfect circle was the only way to give it voice?

But whatever words were once remembered there
Have worn away or toppled as the ground below has shifted
Over centuries of driving rain and frost and snow.
This is no special hill now. Just a field and trees, swings and a slide,
A nice park where people take their dogs and kids
Away from the drab, wet bustle of their town.
There is no special spiritual force I can detect,
Only the stones, battered and daubed with paint
By those who want to make their own loud mark upon the world.

Even in this strange landscape, though, faint echoes may be heard
Though their concentric circles grow wider and weaker
In the sea, which could be time. In their time
This sea was no more than a small lake, still and shallow,
Where even the smallest splash smashed its settled surface
Making waves that changed the very nature of its shape.
No more. The stones stand alone, now an island relic of that time.
But wait in the middle and the sound of their designer's thoughts
May still be faintly heard above the wind.

And the chant is like a circle, uttered softly over and over,
Mesmerising but meaningless to the modern ear,
Yet speaking to the frightened child inside:
?'The Earth and the Sky and the Stars are ours
The Earth and the Sky and the Stars are ours,
The great turning wheel of the universe,
The Earth and the Sky and the Stars are ours...'
And thus then we made sense of this world we came to
If that ring of stones in Wales are words, to me or to you.