I scaled the heights, and let me

confess now of their beauty;

razor-sharp rock, heather coarse,

blown fibres from a rainy north.

Sitting on the edge of these

steps, in a vigorous breeze,

the land falls away, time’s plaything,

whilst eons fade on the wind’s wing.

Valleys, cities, factories, spires

of churches, through a foggy mire;

questions floating through my head,

at life and my muddy ascent.

 

I scaled your heights, and trust me,

when I confront your majesty

I’m left speechless, a mute old doll;

its heart a rough, unstitched hole.

Gazing down, the precipice

is wider now, and drenched in this

rain that took the fire from my

limbs, and chained me to all time.

But thoughts of you and winter nights

inside, gold and silver lights;

pull me, slow, back from the rim;

stirring, nature’s sun, within.