A walk in an elemental graveyard unsettling in its 'not quite dead' feeling
as you circumnavigate the stone garden, faces follow in quartzite curiosity
sculpted decades of wind and rain, structures hold knowledge magnetically
strangeness of a neolithic place of worship we can't seem to quite remember
no phone signal distraction just the hairs gently lifting on the necks nape
walking through this dead ground expressions slip and change grotesquely
natural things become spiritual, blooms of lichen with strange amber iris eyes
the same feeling in a shop with a manikin standing behind you
things are seldom what they seem, childhood phobias slyly visit our souls
Brimham Rocks release fear like a generator magnifying our senses
Nidderdale; an ancient place where older gods rule mist shrouded moors...
as you circumnavigate the stone garden, faces follow in quartzite curiosity
sculpted decades of wind and rain, structures hold knowledge magnetically
strangeness of a neolithic place of worship we can't seem to quite remember
no phone signal distraction just the hairs gently lifting on the necks nape
walking through this dead ground expressions slip and change grotesquely
natural things become spiritual, blooms of lichen with strange amber iris eyes
the same feeling in a shop with a manikin standing behind you
things are seldom what they seem, childhood phobias slyly visit our souls
Brimham Rocks release fear like a generator magnifying our senses
Nidderdale; an ancient place where older gods rule mist shrouded moors...
