Climbing up to Solsbury Hill, I could see the city lights. Wind was blowing, time stood still. Eagle flew out of the night. He was something to observe, and coming close, I heard a voice; standing, stretching, every note-I had to listen, had no choice.
Solsbury Hill!
No, really, it’s one of those secret things. I might say, “If you ever asked me if there was one place in England I wanted to see, I would say Solsbury Hill.” Except I wouldn’t say it. Really, more than anything else, I want to see a bald hill in the middle of the English countryside?
It is a sacred place, this hill. I can’t say what it means to the Christians, or anyone else, but yes, to me it is a sacred site.
It wasn’t dark enough to see the city lights. Rather, the view is somewhat breathtaking. But, yes, the wind was blowing, and time stood still. I wouldn’t see the eagle, though, until later.
“Son,” He said, “grab your things, I’ve come to take you home.”
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