beantighe
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The Music of the StonesThe icy wind blows cold outside,
It chills me to the bones
The wind-song stirs me to the heart -
I see the standing stones.
What music is this, that charms the ear,
Though ne'er a sound is heard?
The silent symphony resounds
Without the need for words.
The enchanting phrases rise and fall
Upon the inner mind;
Such beauty cannot be perceived
By those who are deaf or blind.
I pity you, who go through life
Completely unaware,
Enwrapped in man-made walls of noise,
Too numb to even care,
Who laugh and scoff and cry disdain
Upon the world of soul,
And turn your back and shut your eyes
To that which makes me whole.
How can I share this love I have
With those who will not see?
The city lights and public bars
Have no appeal for me.
And so upon the ancient Moor
I come to be alone -
Yet - not alone, for now I hear
The music of the stones.
(c) Beantighe 2003
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