had to do something when we saw the sun was dying,
was inconceivable to do nothing - for we felt only the end of things.
was no sense then, of the turning of the year.
the now - and the trepidation at what must come.
see - we were all as children then, barely conscious of our place.
carried within us the primordial genes of aeons of mystery.
we felt, we knew - and that was an end to it.
was no sense then, of the turning of the year,
decay - and anticipation of the death of time.
- we had to do something when we saw the sun was dying.
A few had a notion of otherness - a need to understand, beyond self.
The rest knew little then, but were yearning hard for reasons.
Then, my tiny, potent seed of hope - a cosmic mind controlling this?
to communicate with,
therefore proposed that the sun might know we all headed for extinction
could be putting us at fault.
case, I said, was also signalled
wolf-howl winds across our land,
growling, spitfire clouds and raven skies -
warnings from a sometime shadowed moon.
- we had to do something to prevent the sun from dying.
all agreed - we must reach up, talk somehow to seemingly immutable forces,
something, as to other tribes, returned by promises of peace.
But how? And what could be the form of words
power and strength enough to ring a hearing
that vast, untouchable, unreachable vault?
us, I and some few others,
the birth of understanding, a first faint notion - of gods.
few, under my direction, began to create structures, rituals,
of reaching up to plead our cause, atone for our delusions.
took old stones and raised them, intuition-placed in sacred circles.
Directing prayers through rocky portals,
focused songs and drummed to catch that dying disc.
there, before the heart-red sinking sun,
I bled a chosen, precious gift of life!
worked! Not straightaway you understand, but longer term,
breathless time, we noticed movement signifying change, re-birth.
signs grew one upon the other, feeding hope and springing confidence,
Which justified that blood of sacrifice,
what was done was right
setting out a template for the future.
there was sense then, of the turning of the year
of dialogue with gods, devotion, worshipping -
never-ending power, authority, for priests!
[5:30] - soundscape composed by Paul Hill
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