Life is all one continuous story and we’re just the latest characters within it.
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The old straight track from the spring leads to this now collapsed tomb, the burial place of a simpler age.
Some 5000 years have passed since the bones of a warrior or priestess were laid here in honor of a life well spent.
What remained of them has long passed to dust, their kingdoms reduced to piles of stones and memories remain only on the edges of ancient folk tales.
Perhaps it is a fancy though, but upon the black winds of night can the keening voices of these ancestors still be heard, lamenting the loss of their loved ones across this great chasm of time?
Whatever the reality, these folk of time immemorial are always close to us in this place of rock and bleached bone.
Photo: Stone Age tomb on the mountain. Courtesy of the author.
“In wildness is the preservation of our world” – Henry David Thoreau
Never am I more in tuned then when I’m out in the wilderness. Never am I more grounded then when standing before a relic of history.
Hard to explain, but easy to feel. Not an individual life’s journey, but a collective soul’s journey.