In sleet and rain of Edinburgh
a cathedral rises from the deeps.
The salt of sea and old coal blur
veil her face in grey-cast sheets.

On her western pediment
within tympanum carved of stone
sits Christ triumphant and in judgement
where he calls us all to atone.

I stand before him, my head bowed
as I contemplate our shared guilt,
with mea culpas weighing on my brow
for the follies fallen man has built.

And so we’re burning Eden down
with flaming swords that we still wield
as once vast forests shrink and brown
and fallow lie once verdant fields.

Where trees once stood, smokestacks rear
their heads belching fumes up high
and in the deeps, the oceansphere’s
no more a garden for octopi.

For in this our earthly commonweal
that was a gift that’s given free
we prove that purgatory’s real
because we ourselves have made it be.

A whisper came from the carved face
to walk into this stony womb
where colored light and incense trace
a path to overcome the gloom:

Forgiveness for our many faults
comes when we change our ways.
There in this temple’s holy vault
I vow to fight Eden’s decay.

In Edinburgh I found Eden
in a vision of what can be.
For we are by no means beaten
and we can do it, you and me.

Old and new, side by side,
always riding changing tides.
Ebb and flow, rise and fall,
topsy turvy times for all.
Old church clock strikes at noon,
a smartwatch plays a tune,
then and now we measure time —
see how our times seem to rhyme

Peering through a old stone gate,
its face well carved, in prayers attired,
I saw a golden wall of late
before which stood cracked streetlamps retired,
their warming light now long gone
yet they still glow stubbornly on

In an aisle of a great stone church
by flickering light of candles perched
under finials and arches tinged with gold,
flags fly for blood shed on fields of old:
They wave with wistful dreams of war
and tell of great esprit de corps
in a house made holy for a prince of peace
whose dreams of love they speak of least

I didn't know when I'd see you again,
Four years loved and lost,
Right here.

Every time I leave,
I leave a part of myself behind.
My old self lived here.

Can I learn to love you again?
I watched lives get lost living here,
I lost friends and family here.
I cried and screamed here.

I watched people get married,
I saw relationships begin.
I laughed and smiled here.

No matter how far,
You never leave my heart.
Life took a turn,
And now I'm here.

I'm ready for my next move,
I can see myself growing old here.
But I also dream of leaving here.

The time has come,
The streets glow in the winter sun.
Auld Reekie, how I missed you.
It's good to be back with you.

Oh, Prince Philip, you have served us for so long,
For seventy years… The Queen’s Kephas, the rock!
Sometimes it seems that you have always been here...
Like a Servant of the Monarchy, like power, like glory!

Oh, Prince Philip, the son of the Greek Corfu,
You, the Danish Hamlet, you, the brave soldier!
Today your life has died out, today you go to sleep...
So to sleep forever… with God in a permanent covenant!

Your city is crying and the rain is pouring down hard!
Sorrow on the faces of the Britons... You died during the plague,
You left like Paris, real, in the morning, in the spring...

Where are you going now? What kind of images do you see?
What is there after death? Will you reveal these secrets?
Are you taking these to the grave, for yourself, unfortunately?...

9.4.2021.,
On the day of the death of the Greek, Danish and English Prince Philip, husband of the Queen.

You might as well ask me
Not to take another breath -
To climb to the top of Arthurs seat
And not stand with my arms outstretched –
To stand in the middle of an icy street –
In the depths of midwinter
And not gaze with wonder
At the cloud of unspoken poetry
Pouring from my lips
Utterly failing to warm my hands –
And ask me –
Why do I continue –
Look in awe upon something –
So natural, that gives me
So little pleasure in return
And yet enriches my life -
So indescribably?