Where does the wind come from
That whines around your stairs?

And the stars framed above your grey quadrant
Were they there before you?

Were they waiting for the mason and the navie
To catch and enfold that place in the night sky?

And was the moon placed thus
Before you were known?

Were its beams shadowing there in the wood
Before your life began?

Sheena McCurrach

The Temple: Diary

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