Western Breeze

I stand here as oft many times afore
seeing that sacred glob rest his weight
upon the Edge of the world and more
as twilight dances upon hues of yellow
and red and darkness gathers behind me gathering swallowing the last drops of his zest
till there in darkness I stand
with western breezes blowing sharply up
filling and engulfing soul, heart and form
Here upon old Carrick I
look outward at all the world below
seeing the lights glisten below brightly calling
but here I am whole and complete
Like a giant of an ancient faded race
awaiting the moment of my final demise.
Whole, for he I'm at peace with God ,King and Country
I am surely bound to these fields crafted into the network of grass and trees
perhaps more if my mind had its way
but then we all think of our grandeur and watch it fall but these moments upon Carrick are cures
Cures for the little soul,cures for the heart.
Now I'm so far parted having drifted to distant shores and stranger's grounds
I look empty to the horizon, dead to the depths of time for my mind carries across field and mire
journeys the under currents of time and space
till resting in thought again triumphant
I upon old Carrick stand erect starring out to-wards Arran and beyond
feeling the western breeze bite my cheeks
and knowing again I stand as a God upon my throne.

By Alisdaire O'Caoimph

Return to Scottish Poetry