Notes On Islands

Long travelled am I, amongst words that have sailed in and out of months beyond the horizon of years and age. Set down and scrolled out in lexical identity on parchment stane quarried and carried in the soft strom of half light. Earlier I gave a cursory nod to the old man, I had not considered then that his solitary stature would guide so many. But his aching, half arched frame in washed out form, guards entry and signals the traveller of tides the glimpse of long lost siblings. And in your flatter inflexion, my attention drew, to the obvious island words, that take shape their derivative prose. Sung in angular and Whale like form their signature icon denotes my spiritual home. And so, the ellipsis hidden from view was always there, its codified embodiement still breathing amongst the living, in you and I, and all the seas that ever were. For time, as with the bluntness of Helgi’s flint like passion …………the writing is on the wall