The Halo of Beauty



Sheep scamper up the fell

as I trudge behind them, steadying

my footing grasping

aiming for an upright shadow

for my righteous claim to the beauty

that beams as Cumbria’s halo

land of mystic showings


I take my place on the ridge whirling

in circles drinking in the view

of prophetic poets questing

for the sublime for ecstasy and joy

this land inspires like an errant muse

seeking whom she may devour in madness

Plato condemned the poet for making

only copies of copies of the really real

we gnaw on them for strength for life

but taste only sand


Here the quest reclaims itself

as the hidden reward

I reach for what I cannot embrace

I thirst for fountains of clear waters

trickling down the fells into open eyes

cleansing the doors of perception

unveiling a graven message

This is not your own

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