The Long Stone Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE

With clouded skies above me I do climb this winding pathway,
And yet I feel that I am not alone,
So many years have passed and yet its secrets still remain there,
Within that place they laid that ancient stone.
I look upon the rolling downs that reach into the distance,
And then I gaze across the mirrored sea,
So calm and yet disturbing for it lies a ghostly grey now,
As if the sailor's souls are warning me.

And yet I'm drawn still further by the power that it is yielding,
I follow those who've passed this way before,
As now a bitter wind does blow a fine mist from the water,
And creeping ever closer from the shore.
As over now the fields it drifts and seems so unrelenting,
And casts a shroud upon the open ground,
A winter chill descends amidst the land so unforgiving,
The air is hushed I cannot hear a sound.

I turn the corner then I see the stone before me there,
Then sense a restless presence drawing near,
I feel I am not wanted and it fills me with unease,
But still I carry on so full of fear.
And as I place my hands upon the rock so strong and mighty,
I close my eyes yet pictures come to mind,
Which fill my heart with darkness so I pull my hands away,
And then I leave the ancient stone behind.