The Spirit of the Place

In the half-light of distant memory
I sense the shape of the place
Its outline upon a vague horizon
And a knowing voice calling,
Urging
Remember me, remember me…

In the clear light of day
The reality of the place is so much more
An air of ancient serenity
Settles upon the earth,
Whispering
Come to me, come to me…

In the fading light of dusk
I step upon the holy ground
Bound to past and future
The stones tell their own tales,
Murmuring
Be with me, be with me…

In the darkness of the night
The moon-shadows flit from tree to tree
And the spirits move
Touching the soul with joy,
Inviting
Stay with me, stay with me…

In the cold light of dawn
The embers die, fading red
Knowledge gained is stored away
Until the time comes again,
Renewing
Dream of me, dream of me…

Vanora