In fear of sad lines, I reach for the purple ink.
There opens a meadow on the Skye, sea-scented, growing.
A lighthouse in the distance, running fiercely, envelopes the shade.
Birds, insects, earth, grass, moist, bushes, flowers, sea, skies, clouds, sun, wind, light, shadow, view, smells, sounds, colours, touch, nakedness and body cry of happiness.
(But the lighthouse endures in silence.)
I'm happy, I'm solemn, I'm undisturbed.
Now is the only time to love the world.
In memoriam AVW