On the Shoulders of Giants
After the blue plaque was unveiled I was filled with a sense of arrival.
For years it had felt like us modern Pagans had to justify our paths, looking for links to a distant past that gave us some kind of authenticity. Much of this angst came from within the community itself. But over recent years I’ve noticed this ease off as the seeds planted by the likes of Gardner, Valiente, the Sanders, Nichols, have sprouted and have now pushed through the surrounding stones into more fertile ground to form strong roots.
I wanted to write a song that reflected that, so here are the words.
Ancient stone, shadows of firelight, conspire to conceal,
This was my home, a shelter from the night, now every brush reveals,
How I ran with the wild, I ran with my brothers, with arrow and with spear,
I leave you this gift, of 10,000 years.
Romans came, a mighty army, to the shores of Ynys Mon,
I’ve heard it said, I’ve heard the story, the Druids have all gone.
But what stays in our hearts, remains in our memory, with story and with song,
And they have been here, all along.
The Ancients opened the door,
We’re the same as ever before,
We will hear you forevermore,
So by peace and love we stand,
Heart to heart and hand in hand,
On the shoulders of giants we stand.
Is the path lost, is it broken, fallen from our hands,
Like shards of glass, worn by the ocean, into grains of sand.
But they’re raised by the wind, and scattered like ashes, all across the land,
And we won’t forget, we understand.