Blessed be the old road, long forgot, cracked and cased in mud and rot. Immortal they crumbling be, keeper safe the way. Four paths thy watcher turnith thee, mother, crone, maiden and me. Towers crumble honey suckle. The road last on as kings and peoples dwindle. Yet light in hand the world earthed, dispatched the watcher and the sea. ~ The watcher of the old road.

It is paths like that , that old and baron, I must say are beautiful and grand in their own right. The one that last the testimonies of time. Few take them, except the wondering. A old symbol, very old. One I highly respect in all works. Good poem of expression. Truly outside of time, reality, to remain forever I highly agree. *hands chisel*, go carve one.

since returning back to the region i grew up, i have taken note of the little things and they inspire me, there is a path much like there near where i live, the chimney off the road where the house fell all around it. There is a third one I am thinking on, and when the words possess I shall write on. First I must visit the place to see if it is still as once was, though I fear it will not be.

I shall carve my road, my pathway to the heavens with words of thought, passages made for time, calling out to the Tri-Fold Goddess and Great Horned God as I do, for they will listen to my prayers and see the path of knowledge that I have laid out unto them.

Thats the Spirit. I look forward to this new one as well.

will probably be a day or two, i think you will like it