Collision of old and new.

Letting go of things of old.

We found them. We found magic.

There was a humm in the atmosphere. We were in the presence of something otherworldly. It was wonderful. Beautiful. A magnificent sight.

Gifted with having the setting to ourselves, I silently absorbed the scene and the moment. The wind whistled, the frigid air was felt, and yet there was a stillness. It was beautiful. So very precious.

The centre piece stood there, like a Keeper. A Keeper of secrets, a Keeper of the lost. My mind took me to the most extraordinary places. I stood, I watched, I listened, I waited.

The Guardians of the Keeper

Ancient, blood and deed.

Successful in their plight?

You will know if you heed.

The calling, and the beckoning

that's heard within their midst.

The knowledge that will come

when the Spirit touches and does kiss.

Generations have come to honour and cry

out to the stones of old.

Offerings offered, bodies and bones

they've attempted to behold

the answers that they seek,

relief for why they cry.

They hope the gifts that they bring

will hold off the curse of nigh?

Seasons come,

seasons go,

still the stones stand tall.

Telling a story,

they hide a truth

people come

the stones inthrall.

There are secrets in this place,

in this sacred land.

Will they listen? Can they hear?

Will they heed to their command?

The humm within the silence

echoes deep within

the vibration speaks of what's known and not

it goes to where life did begin.

Can they feel the vibration?

Will the mysteries they unveil?

Or will they remain hidden and locked,

a mere fairytale?

They must open their ears and heart

to hear where it all began.

Only then will they see the way,

understand the plan.

Only then will lightness come

to show of their destiny.

Only then will they know what was scribed

before their eyes could see.

Only then.

The ancient stones will remain

with secrets locked away -

waiting to be discovered,

for the seeker to find the way,

to the Keeper.

The Guardian.

The Knower of all that's true.

Standing the the presence of such wonder, feeling my bones shudder, I knew I had to let go, of so much. I was stuck in mud. I was stuck in my past. I didn't know how to let go.

Looking at the scenery around, I knew that generation had come and gone from this place. Life was lived, lived was left.

Would I live and leave the bones of my past?

It's hard to let go. Where once there was such love, where once there was such safety and joy...

AS dramatic as it may sound, I had become a refugee to the life I once lived. An enemy invaded that camp, that world. It was left in tatters.

Like the Ukranians fleeing to find safety in another land, I had to find life in another world.

With the collision of the old and new, it was time to finally let go.