On the Henge

A sacrifice of pearls and rubies

among the misty stones beneath the moon

no fear, no fire, invoking ancient names

the flames within lighting our eyes

between the worlds we stand anew

a hand upon the blade of separation

made with steel and elven cunning

the stunning visions take us there

Here the ancestors are whispering

the living and the dead are all the same

the severed head speaks of great wisdom

the fate of worlds rests on a knife edge

From the mounds the voices rising

the pain of aeons swept into the night

none slept but all would be at rest now

the best will stay to greet the rising sun

Out on the edge, out on the henge