The Stones of Dalmatia

The stones of Dalmatia

Rest a while, traveller,
And observe these stones

Interlocking, convoluted shapes. Curves, convex and concave.
Holed by the constant course of an underground water source.
Wedded to age , sunbaked, parched, chiselled by the wind
And richly patinated to a sculptured grey whiteness
Seeming as lifeless as a cairne

These stones are the measurement by which this land is divided,
And enclosed. Here fields were cleared and walls were raised up.
Within these enclosures fields produced the first rich harvest
Of stones, before the vines could cling to the thin soil
And bear fruit. All abandoned now.

Who remembers the labour of the field
Who can remember hearing the chime of the mattock
Striking stone.

Stone,
Millenii spent in a slow state of restless turmoil.
Originating deep in the cradle of the liquid earth.
In our lifetime we have witnessed that final push that lifts
Them from the soil's grip. Stones take on another life
In our hands but what do stones care for our intention.

We have a rhythm and a pulse
A skilled hand selected, placed
And replaced each piece to find
The point where the polarities

Are aligned. Where two stones
Touched there the pulse vibrated
Across the void and we became
One entity, again.

These rocks, raw material, the building blocks of cities and
Monuments, these living stones that enable us to reach out
And touch the hand of our ancestry are here all distilled
Into this intimate shelter,
A sanctuary