Night rise above our sacred hill my friends!
We meet again beneath the wandering moon.
Tonight the clans are gathered here,
drawn to the rhythm of her tune.
Call to a stranger, a newcomer,
summoned to our midst and taken in.
A new friend with each beat of the drums.
The drums. We greet then with the drums.
Sway with us, come, dance the break of day.

One of our kin enters the circle and exclaims,
"Don't keep this to yourselves!
Whoop to the skies and we shall hear it speak!
The sky will speak to us my friends!"
The place erupts, our consciousness enflamed.
Calling the lovers, the lost, the found,
call the living and the dead.
Wake the babies, the senses.
Call the loved ones to the dance.

Breathe deep into your inner fire.
Warm to the heat of the drum.
Dance with us. Dance with us.
With every step you take you'll change.
Everything you thought you knew
goes up in smoke. Your spirit fills the air.
This moment is all there is. So stop.
Stand still and feel silence circle us.
You are the stillness within earths movement.

The far horizon blinks and slips.
We greet the suns peep with a roar.
Standing stone dancers wave
as sleeping bags stir
and heads roll down the hill,
toward their multi-coloured domes.
For we have built a sacred city here
within the chill dawn misty grey
and will sleep until midway to miss
the morning of this longest day.


Annie Milner January 21st 2000

copyright © the author, 2000