I've no idea where in my head this came from. Seems Celtic somehow. A dream maybe, but not one I wrote down when I woke up. Perhaps the loss of civilisations is a collective subconscious thing.

They say a people of glass and rusty swords
Gripped in cold claws fractured and fell
Into the waiting sea. Those scars of stone
Were torn by dragging feet where bleakly now
Encroaching regiments of grass stand sharp
And startled in the horizontal light.

Tall birds still watch the morning.
Giants sleep in bellies of ancient mud.
The earth turns. Enish once danced
And sang to the snowmen and the laughing trees,
Ran with the dogs, flew with eagles
Down the sunlight over cliffs, they say.
The heart went out of them. Land bound, they fought
Defiantly and vanished into words.

© David Collins 12th February 2003