Here angular arches stand, these ancient stones
That strive and stretch. Bare rock; arms steep and tall;
Grey faces faded; stained hard features smoothed
By time and tears. We softly talk then pause.
Eternal echoes ache and throb in endless
Coils that wrap around as gravity tolls
And eras interweave and inward fall.
Here all is altogether and one is all.

I’m currently reading Fiona Robertson’s ‘Stone Lands’ that explores the prehistoric monuments that stand scattered across our nation. I’ve always found such sites strangely magnetic and dense, as if they’re pins that pierce across the ages.
(17.10.26)

© Ben Quant 2026