The Cairnpapple Mystery

Take me to Cairnpapple,

where the stars knowingly wink

and the sky drops little hints

of more universal love

than it knows with what to do,

where spy satellites blink –

in disbelief perhaps

of what they know is true.


I hear the earth moves at Cairnpapple,

trembling to her very core.

Some primal rhythm re-enacting

in divine blissful harmony.

Mother Earth’s ground

herself into a frenzy, crying out for more,

as once more golden dawn

penetrates her hallowed mound.


So little death at Cairnpapple …

Ripe within the heavy womb

of the sleeping goddess

the stirrings of a new world order,

her Moon reflected in a stray grey hare.

And the Reaper, standing by the ancient tomb,

smiles on with a wry knowingness

of a new vibration in the air.


Yes, take me to Cairnpapple,

where powerful waves wash o’er

this mind-blown microcosm.

Wild energies pulsate,

as all is satiated, drowned

beneath the windswept Tower,

and the World that was can pass away

and we are nowhere to be found.

Copyright (c) Morgan MacInnes 1998

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