A Song of Stones

The ancient witness of the stones:

the blood and oaths of ancient fears.

They mark the graves of dead men’s bones

and mark the grief of cries and tears.

 

The ancient secrets of the stones:

the whisper of dark lovers’ sighs,

the music played in minor tones,

the afterglow of lovers’ lies.

 

The sacred knowledge of the stones:

By moonlight, bloody rituals done.

Etched deep, the geometric runes

glow bright in rays of radiant sun.

 

The mournful silence of the stones:

Forever troth to silent dread,

mark time and season, screams and moans,

the deep, sad silence of the dead.

 

Til then my lady, utmost care:

The unschooled tongue and violin drones

shall bring the judgment and the wrath

of spirits captured in the stones.

 

*Art by Victoria Francis

 

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