Souls roam, through a spirit underland

Neolithic warriors weave their dreams.

Deserted, lost to cities of the heart.

Star dead rivers, flow thick into the black.


Gods were worshipped here.

Secret ways all absent from maps. 

Stone gardens, forgotten laments.

Under rock and wood henge, 

No horizon or silver moon shines.


Here trees whisper without voice,

Stories of love, minerals and salts.


Underland, geology folds deep.

Listen to a sough of wind

A caress of dark imaginations.



©️ Dai Fry 12th January 2020.

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