The Epochs’ Sentinel

Proudly stands the ancient Rock, the epoch’s sentinel
Resolute upon the running fields
Once home to primal, angry mangonels
And men of arms with glinting claimhte and clashing shields
Where prayers were said in whispers and in hallowed song
Where worship rose a scented smoke upon the lifting breeze
Where stones have stood through seasons changed and long
Through countless lives of men and aged trees
A place where death is laid to lasting rest
The rotted frames in dust awaiting second life
Until that day the stones and grass anticipate the final quest
The land to be released from sin and bloody strife
The Rock is standing still
The epoch’s sentinel

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