GLASTONBURY REVISITED

This once place of praise that sometime soared skyward
Reaching ever higher as the many necks crane upward
Hoping to see at least one completed arch in execution
But now dissolved in such an unnecessary dissolution.

Broken pillars rise like tilted tombstones to the church
While others slowly slide in time’s own constant lurch
Steps lead down to the now nonexistent crypts
No doubt still scattered with relics, bones and bits.

Fantastic flying buttresses that once held aloft the core
Struggle to reach their medieval heights but fly no more.
Original outlines of walls within the turf like graven slabs
Show Mary’s chapel, cloisters, chapter house and apse.

How odd the Abbot’s Kitchen should remain intact
Where guides play the making of a medieval menu act.
Let’s not fool ourselves in the face of the kitchen Jester
That all we feel within is what we will forth and muster.

Still visited its life giving springs with Vesica Piscis
We have moved through ages to Aquarius from Pisces
This surely is not what the Christian religion is all about
Or do we as usual fool ourselves in its undoubted redoubt?

We know of waters so soft able to cut through hardest rock
Yet picks and shovels unable to find the power and unlock
What lies beneath the towering hill, the enigmatic Tor
It can’t be missed and stands there still, but there is more:

It seems that ancient symbols hold their power still
Whether they be actual, defunct or attempts to fulfil
Our constant yearnings to hear, to see the unknowable.
Could the named one be truly the One unnameable?

Some have listened to those who worked in Avalon
Famed for its red apples in days now long time gone.
The Company may even now be keeping a listening ear
Waiting to receive the call that mankind is ready to hear.

But methinks, that time is still far off and those of us
Returning now, and wait in vain for the number nine bus,
Will wait forever until they all arrive at once, to take us
Where our hearts and souls know, is the final terminus.
With fondness for the place, Hanukah
© David Tenneson 2013.

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About David

Devonian writer
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