Faceless stones
Of faceless people
Of faceless times
Still they come to me
Why I do not know
Perhaps an indirect impact of history
Times taken in struggle, and in joy
Now forgotten, and yet I think not
Only a lonely bestrewn plot
Silence broken only by the wind in the trees
Or the creaking of a rusted gate
Resting now in their terral blankets
In the placid ground
Silence only broken by strange beckoning
The inquiring curiousity of the unknown
Yet with all the questions there are answers
Answers to the future
So many important things
Seem to fall away
To the realization
Of our true nature hidden within
And below...