Here winds a cathedral into the earth
Here sings a voiceless choir,
Echoes indiscernible from the wind.
My words are weak against these limestone walls.

Here there once were gods; here they stand still.
A great black bull the scale of night
Unspeakable in its ageless strength
And mares the colour of blood and birth.

Here long ago the god of fire danced with that of time
And teachers spoke the never-ending tales,
Now we do not understand
And bird-headed heroes break ever on the clay.

Here hands touched their fingers to eternal stone
Smeared their prints into the breath
Of deer reaching their necks above a flood.
Not yet washed away by time, I look down at my hands.
And they look just the same.