I stand alone atop this hill
Looking out at what once was
And is no more
The bustle and hustle of every day
Faded into dust
Paths forged by footsteps
Overgrown and long forgot
I stand alone atop this hill
Where many stood
And stand no more
Where life flowed and flourished
Then trickled away
Leaving houses and homes
Just piles of stones
I stand alone atop this hill
Where the silence deafens with absence
Surrounds you and swallows you whole
And if you listen, if you really listen
You can hear them
The chatter and swell of daily life
Echoes of what was, and is no more
This is a poem I wrote a while ago, I love visiting ruins, treading in the footsteps of our fore-bearers. I have a few favorites, and this is one of them, a neolithic axe factory. Radio-carbon dating suggest that this site was active as an axe factory between at least 3,650 BC until about 3,050 BC, after this the stones were used to construct cairns and small holdings. It has a direct line of site to one the the most important Iron Age hilltop forts in the area and is believed to be a site of importance to our distant ancestors. It is hair-raisingly magical here, when the clouds set in, you feel like you could slip back in time. It is like you can almost hear the rhythmic knock of stone on stone, flaking and chipping the axe heads into shape. We spend a good few hours here when we went last year, and sifting through the stone and slag piles, we found what is unmistakably a rejected axe head, a gift from those who came long before!
Photos by me, apart from the one of me, very patiently taken by 
Thank you very much, I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to stop by!