Walking up the wold,
The scene came from all time.
And from none.
No sound, no telegraph, no house
Marred this view
Only a flock of sheep
Unchanging, wandering silently
Great valley, stretched away
High hills, all in wintry light
This scene could have been one hundred
One thousand, two thousand years ago.
A Viking raider, a Saxon serf.
A civil war crusader, a Ninteenth Century Landowner.
All could come passing down this path.
And on this hill, without time
And my mind took a sudden shift in realisation
That I am not just in this moment of time
This reality; there is another and another
Unknown, seek it and cannot place it
Present reality’s bands are too strong
And for a moment, I am back here.