The thinking hill

 Under the hill 

And over the dale

The water runs on

In buckets and pails

And lamp lights glitter

The streets full of litter

Of the debris of the day of its flooding

Like getting blood from a stone

The mendips alone

Aren't places to roam

But men may atone

For sins they've committed

Or rights they've done wrong

The swords in the stone

Like the words in the song

And I have a home 

In the hills of Rome

Like in Bath the seven paths

All lead to one

Beneath the settled slabs

The calcite, limelight

The shining light shone

Flashing in the darkness

Of Remembering black swan

Gliding on the white lake

Of certainty throngs

Of people gathering above

In the busy world all day-long

But in the quiet echo chambers

The sound reverberates

It's a kind of cranium

a skull

Hollowed out by evolution

Of the water-blood flow

To breathe new thinking space

Into the timeless blue

This hill is a head

That has been contemplating time

And the world for millennia

Each epoch creates a new network

Of channels

Water was its neurons

It had water on the brain

The rain fell on its crown

And it began to think

I am a hill, a rock

But what is a rock

But a composition of chemicals

Elements and minerals

A body waiting to react

To the lifeblood of water

And in the thinking it loses itself

A part is washed away in the flood

Of passing thought through the passages of time

Yet the loss is like a growth

A thinning of the excess weight

Of past ideas, preconceptions

And judgments about the world

That proved false

Or only true for the time they were laid down in

No longer a present reflection of the status quo