A Thousand Years Poem by Maurice Rowlands

A thousand years have passed
And I remember it as new
But now I sit
By the ruins of that crumbled old abbey
With the pilgrims afew
Where are the monks?
Dead and gone are they?
Old Henry saw them off
Before I had my say

Two thousand years have passed
Since I sat by the flickering flames of torchlight
On a heather scattered hillside
And watched the Druids tortured
Then slaughtered
By the sons of Rome
I rejoiced
On that day they went home

Three thousand years have passed
Since I stood proudly upon a hillfort
Amongst the battle torn Celts
Wearing nothing but animal pelts
Stripped from the bodies of beasts
Who I thought
Were our Gods
As well as our feasts

Ten thousand years have passed
Since I knelt in that stone circle
Darkest of times
Sacrificial blood
Flowing from my veins
My screams
Echoing off their sacred moon
I was taken too soon

Eternity has passed
Since I held up my ale and sang
The songs of the dead and the cursed
In the burning fortresses of Valhalla
Feasting on the souls of the first
That were taken from Lindisfarne
From innocent folk
Who meant me no harm

A long time has passed
Excalibur has gone
Ripped away from my flesh and bone
Perhaps in the end
My time will be written
Many years just sitting
Within the pages
Of a forgotten dusty old tome