“Wonder what they talk about?”
Whatever we give them to talk about.”
“Not going to be best pleased then?”
…They do have something of the ‘other-world’ about them these places.
‘No un-authorised person beyond this point,’ said the sign.
‘But we are more authorised than anyone ever could be,’ said Wen.
It is difficult to disagree but then the village of Cerne Abbas is in itself quite otherworldly too.
I got exactly the same feel from it as when I first went to Glastonbury.
It felt like we had left England and gone abroad, perhaps to France…
‘Albion!’ smiles Wen, ‘the whole of these Blessed Isles used to feel like this…’
The first key…
Bigger than me…
and inside, a box; identical but smaller, in order to fit, with another key.
Key number two…
As big as you…
whose mote is my beam, now clearly seen as I click the lock and find inside another box, identical but smaller…
Key number three…
What will we see…
as we flick the lock and peer inside the box? A heart, blood red and still beating…
The ground starts to shake with footfalls much bigger than me and a large eye appears at the church window.
‘Fee… Fi… Fo… Fum…’ says the Giant.
On one side a giant kisses the sky,
On the other a fore-finger, its hand buried in clay.
Yet should you ask, ‘why?’
There is no one left to say…
Can a sliver of blue heaven
Between hard rock face,
Answer the riddle
Set by time and place?
Could Sentinels of Stone point out the way?
Is there really such a difference betwixt night and day?
First it was a tickle,
Then it was a stroke…
As the pale sun’s disk
Caressed by bark
Slid down to earth
And then began to talk…
‘You enter this portal to
avoid traversing the dark.’
I have lain here for millennia
watching ages pass.
Great beasts once roamed my slopes.
I saw them take to the air.
Their leathery calls scarring the sky.
In a fiery eye-blink they were gone.
Ice flows then kissed my rugged cheek
with cold, thin, sticky, lips
and time ushered in a new form of dominion.
But they too have all but gone now
transforming themselves into machines
which will devour everything
like the great beasts of old.
But I will still endure, watching
ages pass, for millennia more…
Down the dark stairwell, a silent progress plotted.
‘Twas death in that house were Tom but spotted.
…He reached the door, a tree clad Owl hooted.
Three seconds more and Tom was Seven League Booted.
One stride it took to clear that grim ravine.
By the dimly waking watchers, Tom was never seen.
A toe hold caught the receding lip of night.
Poor Tom was spilled out, and tumbled into flight…
In the glow
far, far below…
High keening Kites.
*Tom Banjo is a character who appears in the Grateful Dead song entitled ‘Mountains of the Moon’. About two-thirds the way through the song, and upon hearing of the Marsh King’s daughter, Tom mysteriously disappears…
It is a familiar conundrum.
Whenever we come across sites like this, and we seem to come across more than a few, there is an inevitable question.
How much of it is natural?
Without question much of it is, but the more one finds that is not natural then the more one tends to question that which was initially assumed to be so.
On our most recent jaunt we came across the suspicious looking stone above.
To my mind that was very obviously a positioned stone.
It is an interestingly enough shaped stone in itself but more than this, it seems almost inconceivable that it could have fallen like that or have been left by retreating ‘Ice Giants’.
But then there arises the inevitable following question.
So why was it positioned in this way?
And to this question, unfortunately, there is not always a readily forthcoming answer.
But this time we were lucky.
Question: ‘When is a stone, not a stone?’
Answer: ‘When it is a nose (and an eye).’
Faces Beyond Form…
It is beyond question that what would, today, be regarded as three separate sites are in fact one.
Though distinct, with individual identities, each facet works together with the other as one whole.
Given that the Stride, from Hart Hill, sights, frames and tracks the midsummer moon we might be forgiven for thinking that…
… Robin’s Hood is…
…the Earth’s shadow.