We stand upon  the ruins unredeemed.

There are many sights I have not seen
Whether in the sunshine or by  night
The Tudor walls, the priest’s hole, ancient dreams

The church  once held us,  what does  absence mean?
We do not see   the candles or the lights
There are many sights we have not seen

We stand upon  the ruins  unredeemed.
Averted  human eyes can  find  no signs
The Tudor walls, the bolthole, ancient dreams

We feel alone, no meeting  yet convened
As if we are divided by straight lines
There are many sights we have not seen

Like runners in a race  appear so keen
Our pride makes up pretences for our lives
The Tudor walls, the priest’s hole, ancient dreams

As we submit to sleep  we find designs
Patterns in the world  of poetry ,rhymes
There are  visions  I have not yet seen
The Tudor walls, the  floating clouds , our times