The light fell and the fallen traveller saw the path light up before him. 

In the hidden shadows, the temple watches the reflected clouds in the ponds. 

To wait, to serve, to contemplate. 

Daring to break free from the crowd. 

open roofed and still standing proud 

Does any one have a plumb bob? 

The trick is to speak low and project from the belly. 

Sometimes all we can do is stop and stare. 

Tourists now wander in hushed tones of praying priests. 

Optical illusions play tricks upon the path way to spiritual enlightenment. 

The remaining plaster holds echoes of what once was. 

By light, the way was opened up. 

Shadow tears of memories past. 

Against the flow of the stream, life played all it's stages. 

From gentle flow to playful leap of living. 

Lost in feeding, the swan is blind to the gentrification of the landscape. 

Of swans, lakes and reflected fading glories. 

Timeless are the clouds as they watch the repeated fall of human efforts. 

It will look nice when they finish it. 

Up here in Yorkshire, everything's big lad! 

The worm keeping an eye out for the circling crows. 

It comes down to a question of scale, big buildings require big clouds. 

The hatchback jumped over the abbey. 

Of doorways, windows and pillars. 

Light opening up the dark.