A place where time always stands so still
A patchwork of farmland lies all around
This is an ancient buriel ground
The Ancestors speak up from this place
It's a portal which defies time and space
An axis mundi of a time long gone
But this entrance to the World Tree still lives on and on
Just below the crest to the NW behind
Lies the source of the Kennet
Pure, clear and crystalline
The Swallowhead Spring bubbles out from Mother Earth
Guarded by an elderly willow tree
Branches split, trunk of great girth
All tied with clooties and hung with shells
This place is still revered and respected well
And to the north Silbury Hill reaches to the sky
Trying to catch those stars of the Southern Cross
As they ceased to fly
For the Stars they were leaving, not moving as planned
And that for the Ancients
They could not understand
Why certain stars no longer showed
What did this mean and who would know
Then they got fed up and rolled big stones across
Time to think and guard against loss
They closed the Tomb's mouth
As the Cross dropped further south
The Barrow was used now in a different way
As The Elders pondered and worked out their state of play
This would change the ways of The Clan
It might spell trouble for every child, woman and man
Observations went on for 1000's of years
And no doubt The Elders had a great many fears
For the stars and the planets showed
When crops were ready to sow
If they failed or got it wrong how could The Clan grow?
They had to ensure the safety of The Tribe
But if things changed, how would they survive
The Shamans entred within the tomb
This dark and man made Mother's Womb
They lit their fires, danced their dance
Sat very still then rocked in a trance
Faces moved upon the walls
As they drummed and made their keening calls
For answers they were to seek to find
They would journey to the future and back down the time lines
Would they still be able to tend to their crops, provide for families, feed their flocks?
Or would the future of the human race be lost?
But as you know we are still here.
We've survived for 5 millennia
But we still live in fear
But those who remember, do still dance
We sing, we drum, we pray, we chant
Up at the Long Barrow upon the hill
To thank the Ancestors who visit there still
By Sarah Bard and Ovate
