Shadows long
painted on
obelisk walls
long corridors
to arches
hewn from
living
long-dead
granite
the mead
twirling
inter-twined
with incense
psylocibin
become monsters
angels
demons
just beyond
the gates
of this circle
he speaks
and his voice
encircles
attentive druids
loud enough
for clarity
soft as
moths kissing
the flame
overhead
stars
swoop
dazzle
aware in
the heady mix
the sun is gone
memory
remains
over the soft rise
of Glastonbury Tor
From the prompt: “Whispers tangled in the fabric of twilight”.
Leave me a prompt and I’ll write you a little something 🙂
