The endless possibilities of electromagnetic waves Travelling 16 billion miles every seven days Are an ever-moving spectrum of ultraviolet rays And radio and infrared superposed in phase… And if an EM wave should a metal surface hit The energy of the photons which exist as part of it Is passed on to electrons inside the metal plate And the latter with their negative will finally escape The metal surface now will have a greater positive And thus a very useful store of energy to give So – direct a beam of light on to a shiny metal slate And then that force, could make, of course, an orrery rotate A planet’s solar orbit keeps a parabolic pace Erring to and from its path in modified time-space But starlight beams will bend around the sun each time they pass And energy’s the speed of light that squares itself times mass This speed of light will keep an unadulterated course Its momentum independent of the motion of its source But the interval of time between two separate events Is longer for observers in whose frame of reference The happenings occur in different places, than for he For whom they happen in the very same place…you see… Atoms which absorb the neutrons in their way Vibrate like trembling dew drops, then dramatically decay They lose their binding mass from deficiencies of protons Converting now to gamma rays or energetic photons Energy can never be destroyed and not created Movement, sound and light are in the strangest way related Oscillating atoms and their heat are all as one And shifting orbits spiral in and out, then they are gone ‘Simple thought,’ said Einstein, but his complicated laws Invited future questions on a unifying cause Governing the universe’s ever-flowing swing – A theory culminating in… one for everything!

Years of Sunday suns before I knew you Circling with their never-changing force Gave our unconnected worlds one centre And watched our separate Sundays take their course Gentle to the heads of aching wine Offering the turf to Sunday boots Calling to the ones who wake with chimes Opening the church to Sunday suits Singing praise with interludes Matching plates with flowery foods Brewing tea and stewing moods Provoking then resolving feuds Did you ever hear me softly turning to you Those Sundays in those years before I knew you? A Sunday in a spring when I first saw you Those true rays faltered as they watched us speak Loved confused that ancient place out of order And the days slipped out of kilter with their week Saturday the classroom filled with noise Monday closed the doors of banks at one Wednesday's washing blew upon the wind And Tuesday every working man had done Tell me why I don't like Fridays Wear my linen-o on Monday Goodbye, Goodbye, Rubv Wednesday Always always on a Sunday You jumbled up my heart and I fell for you That Sunday in that spring when I first saw you A Sunday in a summer when we kissed The sky as we had known it rolled away Everything outside did not exist And the beating of the sun stopped with the day Park and country walkers held their stride Morning markets guarded empty streets, Blackberries sat upon their bushes still And sermon masters prayed to empty seats Relatives not rung yet Photographs not hung yet Broken beads not strung yet Solemn psalms not sung yet Did you feel the time stand still inside my wrist That Sunday in that summer when we kissed? A Sunday in an autumn when you left me Early frozen stars began to pour You loved me but you loved another stronger And the sun shone down alone on me once more I'll wear my Sunday hats out in the streets I'll walk along to buy my Sunday news I'll mow my lawn in time for Sunday lunch And polish up my car and Sunday shoes But Sunday nights on my settee I'll shake my Sunday hairpins free Recall the easy way we'd be Replay the thrill you'd wake in me I'll taste the kiss we drank with wine And feel your heart still beat for mine Play back each inspiring line Relive your love that made me shine And keep that sunny love alive to warm me Those endless winter Sundays that wait for me.

You spoke and smiled and the earth momentum failed And as I walked away, we watched my body go My life began as the darkness swiftly paled This is what I know You look at me directly in the eye As we drift along a legendary beam And when we land, we never say goodbye This is what I dream You reach an age when your soul will want to fly And with shining twinkling eyes I hear you say We'll rise as one into that legendary sky This is what I pray You disappear as softly as you came Leaving love that grew too loud for you unsaid My life has gone, your life remains the same This is what I dread You find a force that glows as bright as you And reveals a kindly bearing as we grope And something good and gentle pulls us through This is what I hope

I’ve travelled to the rhythm of a great conductor’s needle To the ordinance precision of some strict surveyor’s staves The ringing-singing symphonies of steep staccato stairways And winding water melodies through orchestrated caves I’ve held the panoramas of the planet’s ancient preludes That scale above the islands then fall deep beneath the blue - But never an adventure in the music of the stones Could ever match the journey that my Bom-Bosch leads me through. I’ve opened doors to silver scores and welcomed velvet voices Listened to the brightest brew a singer’s heart can stir Recognised a million sighs that breathe among the breakers And chased a million others where the flooded cities were I’ve taken inspiration from the drama of my dreamings Followed calmer choruses where level waters wash And found a never-ending mound of joyful jewelled verses - But nothing like the song that lives inside my great Bom-Bosch Basketfuls of poetry have satisfied my thirst And nourished all the playful fruity hunger deep within Unlocked the many luscious lands of lyrical supply And lit in droves the stoked-up stoves, while stacked-up stanzas spin Disarming rhymes with cryptic mimes have furnished me with feasts As joyful lines in saddened brine charm taste buds in my brain And satiate my longing for the world to thrill my thoughts - But nothing so delicious as the sweet Bom-Bosch refrain I’ve penetrated guarding glass and slipped through wooden frames To search between titanic tones and quiet hidden hues I’ve lived among the galleries where pure dimensions meet Tracing timeless secrets under freely coloured clues I’ve gasped in wonder every time a canvas calls my name And stared in disbelief when living marble shapes the past- But not before I gazed in awe at Tom-Bom-Bosch’s hand Did I see clearly what I was - and life knew me at last.

Show me where to sit, I said, I don't know where to sit I've tried your chairs and floors and stairs but nowhere seems to fit Where do I put my other foot, my elbows and my knees? I knew I had two arms and legs, but not as long as these Shall I stand until I land, or elegantly split? Help me, lead me, guide me now - I don't know where to sit Show me what to drink, I said, I don't know what to drink I know I'll swoon or topple soon, but I've forgotten how to think Am I thirsty? Am I hot? Why can't I answer sweetly? Who put this drain upon my brain and dried me up completely? My face has burned, but never turned, this brighter shade of pink Help me, lead me, guide me now - I don't know what to drink Show me how to speak, I said, I don't know how to speak I watch the words come warbling from underneath my beak I'm like a bird of homeless word, wondering how to talk Twittering and flittering then laughing with a squawk I have felt a featherbrain, but never quite so weak Help me, lead me, guide me now - I don't know how to speak Show me how to kiss, I said, I don't know how to kiss I thought I'd been through all there was, but now I'm faced with this I'm bound to freeze, or bound to sneeze, or read the moment wrong What do I do, so close to you? It's been so very long In fact, I've never ever been face to face with bliss Help me, lead me, guide me now - I don't know how to kiss Show me how to love, I said, I don't know how to love Those coloured stars and arrows keep inviting me above I need a map upon my lap, a plan or where to go A simple chapter teaching me what every girl should know So I can ride where arrows glide, upon my homing dove… Help me, lead me, guide me now - I don't know how to love

You came to me in the night As I waited in darkness and watched with my eyes closed You sat beside me again, as you did when lived here An echo ago Hold me, reach me, tell me you left me only in a nightmare, woah... You took you me into your world When you thought that you needed the light that I gave you You took my face in your hands and knew that you loved me An echo ago Hold me etc ‘What are you thinking of?’ ‘Sadness,’ I said, as your strong gentle fingers encradled my head ‘What isn’t happening, why can’t we be? And where is the you that used to be me…’ You stepped out into the world Where they greeted you warmly and I was a memory I found this corner of darkness and made it my home here An echo ago Hold me etc

Hi Tom, ‘lo Tom, where d’y get y’ high hat? Is it just a symbol, symbol, symbol It makes me laugh x 2 Haha! Hi Hat, ’lo hat, where’s she gong gong gone? Gone to see ‘er Tom-Tom, Tam-Tam timbale It makes me laugh x 3 Hahaha! You have such a funny way with words… Man in a bowler, inner-city roller Is it just a brief case, or are you going steady? It makes me laugh x 2 Haha! Mr Multi-pounder, out-of-city bounder, Tried to sell his stock, but the market wasn’t ready It makes me laugh x 3 Hahaha! You have such a funny money job… You with the frump on, where d’you get the hump from? You are such a difficult, fuss pot, odd bod It makes me laugh x 2 Haha! Awkward, peculiar, you are such a kill joy Why you such a funny fish, drab crab, cold cod? It makes me laugh x 3 Hahaha! You are such a funniosity…

Oh my jack pot, oh my hot cat How’d you like to walk the night? Scale the rooftops reach the skylife Steal the midnight moonlight Don’t misunderstand my smiles Get set for a night on the tiles Take some time off, time your mask off Lay your stiff tuxedo down Don your soft shoes, doff your top hat Prowl with me above the town No cost – no need to count the miles Time’s lost on a night on the tiles Oh the ceiling’s too low and the walls are too near There’s not enough room to swing a cat in here Whisk us off to some other cool place Cats like us need space. Miouw – let me out… So my jack pot, so my hot cat How’d you like the air up here? Let’s recline and taste the moonshine Breathe the night-time atmosphere Let’s stop and linger here a while Let’s drink to a night on the tiles! Oh the ceiling’s too low etc

I’ll just walk alone for a while now, I told you Blow some sea air through my bottle-necked words I’ll follow the beacons that light when I hold you I’ll fly on the wind with those free-wheeling birds The deep skies were high and the white clouds were low I soared and I swooped but my verses still slept Under the current and over the flow I was energy stored where the corals are swept I searched among fossils and sea-shells that knew me Eager to find the right form for your song When something came to me, above me or through me Woven with notions I’d owned all along Silent and stately your galleon was steered Slicing the sea without pomp, without voice When out on the deck three boxes appeared That beckoned me open the first of my choice With unswerving step and a slow steady hand I lifted the cedar wood lid like a shield ‘It’s JEWELS!’ I sang aloud to the land Where the rich ringing rhymes of your stanzas are sealed I cried with delight as a million gold darts Burst from the crate on diagonal beams While warm amber clusters befriended my heart And tenderest topaz took care of my dreams Lulled by the gilded and sulphury haze Cradled in opal and soft ochre rocks I slipped like a sylph through the pale golden rays Releasing the clasp on the next wooden box I almost drowned there in that lazuli pool Till amethysts worked their purply brew Sapphires proffered their translucent cool And sleep nestled down in the dark midnight blue. There I dreamed of navy ships and turquoise arcs across our skies Indigo dust upon our lips with lapis landscapes in our eyes The thinnest trills of distant strings spun their fragile cornelian lines & dragonflied the daybreak’s wings with violet silks & gossamer wines As the shocking red sun in orchestral swing Rolled in its furnace the third chest broke free Rockets of rubies were launched for my king And gunflares of garnet set fire to the sea As feverish scarlet whipped through the blues Engulfing the gold in kaleidoscope wealth I leaned on the ropes absorbing the news: My first song to you had written itself Then the marbled mosaics turned to prisms of white And the quiet that fell was the purest I’d known My world was at peace and the years became light And never again would I face them alone As I silently walked from my dreams to your arms Eternal armadas of cargo set sail With fruits and wild orchids, rare rhythms and balms To kindle my songs if my own words should fail.

The stranger arrived and Set about his tour around the town Soon admiration filled his foreign head ‘Who is the man who built those marble walls, I’d like so much to meet him. Pray, what is this good man’s name?’ The passer-by, not knowing what all this meant, gave his reply to the man: ‘Ki Nog Stan’. The stranger heard descant Echo in a church across the square Moved to a frenzy, ran to the priest in prayer: ‘Who is the man who plays that haunting tune, I’d like so much to meet him. Pray, what is this good man’s name?’ The smiling priest, not knowing what all this meant, gave his reply to the man: ‘Ki Nog Stan’. The stranger saw dancers Weaving through the trees across the green Stole like a stream towards the enchanted scene: ‘Who is the man who taught those rhyming mimes I’d like so much to meet him. Pray, what is this good man’s name?’ Three girls in time, not knowing what all this meant, gave their reply to the man: Ki Nog Stan The stranger sensed movement High above the spinning of his head, Swayed in amazement, disbelief and dread: ‘Who is the man who flies that train through space, I’d like so much to meet him. Pray, what is this good man’s name?’ The crowds below, Not knowing what all this meant, Sang their reply to the man: ‘Ki Nog Stan’. The stranger by this time, Frantic in his search for Ki Nog Stan, Entered an inn and questioning began: ‘Good afternoon , there, I am a stranger, I’m looking for someone – pray, sir, what is your good name? The staring man, not knowing what all this meant, gave his reply to the man: ‘Ki Nog Stan!’ ‘KI NOG STAN!!! I’VE FOUND HIM!!! KI NOG STAN!!

Who will walk along my lonely way? When will I hear calling from the blue? Where will tears be hiding on that day? Why will it be me he’s calling to? Whose warming stride will echo lightly through my days? Whose swinging arms will wave and reach towards my gaze? How will we find a happy pathway through the maze Dream Who will he be walking to me from? What will have been before he hears my plea to come? Who lies behind? A figure I may never see Will she be searching for him as he searches me? What will he do to take me off my weary hands? Will we depart to whispered thoughts in silent lands? How will we withstand the world’s demands? Dream Who is this girl who watches through these eyes of fear? When did she turn her back and wander out of here? How can I catch her up again when she’s so near? How do you touch a heart that wants to disappear? Can I believe he’ll take me back from where I came? Will he console me, lead me home and find my name? Then when we’ve held each other, will we dream the same dream?

I should’ve known then by the stars in my eyes By the heart on my sleeve, by your never surprise By the height of my hopes and my unhidden sighs That I was too easy to love I was too easy to love Why didn’t I see that the balance was tipped That I was too drugged by the love that I’d sipped How couldn’t I feel that my heart was being ripped Being too much in love to be loved Too much in love to be loved And how could I have fallen from mighty to slave? How couldn’t I foresee how not to behave? I should’ve known then as I gave and I gave That I loved you too much for your love Loved you too much for your love… And how didn’t you see that to walk away then Calling I’ll be back some day, I can’t tell you when Left my door sadly open to other sweet men Who love me now you pray for my love Who love me now you crave for my love

Underneath the bridge, beside the lazy stock Along the cobbly ridge and round the stony clock Down the shady steep, beneath the leafy domes Below the chimney keep and opposite the homes Through the swinging door and up the sunny stairs Across the chequered floor and past the duty chairs On the wooden ledge, inside the tiny space Over to the edge - you've found the water place Now can you see the welcoming and cheery face of The Edinburgh Mermaid? I said “How long you been a mermaid for?” She said "I must've been eight I couldnae've been more - I lost my leg in a jambed tram door Without that, I would've been a walker I said “But you swim, must be a mile each day You sort of do your walking in a watery way And you certainly make up for it, wouldn't you say, By being quite a long distance talker?” And I say this, friends, with a smile to my drift, 'Cause we talked as we swam every dawn like a gift. So at dusk I had the air for my musical shift Through… etc Now do you think at all you could keep up with the pace of The Edinburgh Mermaid? There we both were like a pair of old trout The more that we swam, the more we found out Until we both sort of knew what the other was about - There in the Glenogle Pool We talked about parking and houses and friends All about hobbies and musical trends And how the water life begins where the city life ends - Echo-y, floaty and cool And, did you know, when she's not swimming there On some other side of town she'II be swimming elsewhere Her mer-mer music drifting through the Edinburgh air Through…etc Now would you like to float above the humanly race with The Edinburgh Mermaid? Since I last saw the mermaid, I heard she'd been ill And had been quite poorly, I take it, until She received a magnificent magical pill - A mountain of letters that grew From people in pools who go there to train Or go to get wet, or to get out of the rain Or to work or to help them to get over some strain - Each stood in a post office queue You see, they all missed the cheer she'd brim with And somebody nice to grow healthy and slim with But most of all someone they could talk to and swim with I heard that it worked - she's back. Phew! Through… etc Now think of all the fishy-washy dreams you could chase with the Edinburgh Mermaid

Many hours have passed through here And gathered heartache on the way But this amongst the sorrows is In all the world, the saddest day I've seen serene reflections fade In darkened dreams and watery skies But yours amongst the sorrows are In all the world, the saddest eyes I've travelled to some cheerless parts To wilderness through troubled space But here amongst the sorrows is In all the world the saddest place Many loves have wept as one And many more have grieved apart But mine amongst the sorrows is In all the world, the saddest heart Voices vague and void of song And lost and longing cries I've heard But love amongst the sorrows is In all the world, the saddest word

Would you just please with an ear of your own Consider the deep and the velvety tone Of this ancient mahogany drone? It’s heavy and dusty and might make your sneeze It suffers itself from a primeval wheeze But how it shifts when you pedal with these… My feet flap like ducks and my knees walk a mile My hands scan the scale in a serious style And your frown becomes a smile. As the bellows send air across rows of brass reeds That wake and vibrate as their hinges are freed And its music of gold gathers speed. But my old dilemma’s here: my mirror’s far too small, So you’re staring at my back and I can’t see you at all. And as we shrink, my words grow tiny, and we float around the hall: ‘What a funny old world we are. What strange little folk we be: It’s a droll-soul, bellow-fellow, treadle-pedal, chord-lord, Broad-board, vox-box Rap-tap, bass-case, pop-stop, funk-trunk, Odd-mod, round-sound, an oak-croak, teak-creak Prim-hymn, palm-psalm, good-wood, lift-shift, Draft-shaft, air-blair, to-fro thru’-blow, Rush-push, lull-pull: a grand hand spanned band But I still can’t see you see me! Hey, hey, I say – wear your travelling coat And we’ll all climb aboard my harmonium-boat I wonder where we’ll float? Gather your notes as I pedal and start This old wooden soul, and we’ll follow the heart Of our own home-grown travels with art Over the top of the music parade Where a thought can be caught and then shaped and be played Where our future old favourites are made. Jiving to marches and smooching to flings Waltzing to dirges and twisting to strings, Till a lonely trumpet sings… But my old dilemma’s here etc… It’s a droll-soul, bellow-fellow etc Hey hey I say is there anyone there Who’d lift my harmonium into the air I wonder if you’d dare? Its body is sturdy but splits into two If you stand at the sides, then you’ll know what to do Please, oh please, would you? Surprising I know, but my organ still sings Without all its makeup and mirrors and things These bellows still have wings The life of my music is now in your hands I’ll sit as it flies and I’ll sing as it lands Till my old harmonium stands Now my old dilemma’s gone with the mirror and the ball And now you’re staring at my face and I can see you all And as we shrink etc … It’s a droll-soul, bellow-fellow etc… Is that all it takes – well, goodness gracious me!

‘Are you in the hat?’ Anna whispered to Judy Who’d called in from work, collapsed at our table ‘What do you mean?’ She answered, perplexed, As no point of reference arrived with a label. ‘The hat is my house, at least that’s the idea, But there’s not enough room on my head,’ I began, ‘For me to be in it, and all of my friends, So only those staying on Wednesday nights can…’ Her poor eyes by now had grown dark and glazed over And she smiled half awake at our meaningless manner ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘I’ll make you some tea.’ ‘And I’ll show you the plans for the hat,’ ventured Anna. ‘All are invited to Jane Bom-Bane’s house. Somebody rings and she answers the door She greets you with smiles and a train on her head And takes you aboard for a whistle stop tour She’s made herself dizzy so has a lie down As you all walk round the house to the garden outside That’s where I sit and play my guitar And sings a selection of songs in my stride Then Jane Bom-Bane rises and has a quick bath Communicates there with her maritime self Dolls herself up th join you in the garden And finds some presentable cups from the shelf But just as impressions begin to improve A high window moves on the roof’s sloping wall And a 16-year-old and his paraphernalia Burst from their confines and shower us all We shuffle inside as shadows grow long The barometer tells us it’s blowing a storm So we pull up our chairs, reflect on the hat And pull up our chairs round the fire for a warm’ ‘I see,’ Judy, said, so her friends and relations, When all that they’ve done is call round for a chat Find themselves offering their skills and advice- Or somehow involved in making the hat; Her aunts and her uncles, cousins and nieces Sisters and nephews and brothers in law Her parents, her boyfriend, his daughter, his dad His sister and partner, her friends from next door Chums from the 50s and 60s and 70s 80s and 90s and millennium Old friends from up north and new friends from the south Her X and his family, his wife and her mum Friends who offer fine foods and philosophies Seafolk she sunbathes and sings with each year The fans who are friends and the friends who aren’t fans, The ones that are listening and those who aren’t here. What are we all if we’re not a small part Of the overall shape of another man’s heart? Her heart’s where her home is and that’s on her head So we’re all in the hat!’ ‘My God!’ Judy said.

It’s a long, long word, and it faces itself It’s a long, long word, and it follows itself It’s a long, long word, and it chases itself It’s a long, long word, and it swallows itself We spiral round the world as it tilts upon its pole And scan the northern half of the green and navy sphere Then as our interest grows, the mighty magnets roll And we’re pulled in closing coils till the frosted lands appear. Like sharply chiseled ice, our spear-headed eye Relentless in its course, unshakable within, Cuts through the freezing firs with an ancient homing cry Past the land of the Lapps into the lap of our Finn… Our warming senses warn us through his soft rotating song Which occupies our friend, as he polishes his stone, That his world is not so shiny, not so perfect, oddly wrong And he tries to realign it as he sits and works alone. His doctors cannot free him from a weakening condition Which causes the compulsion to retain exact control Over both sides of the body, so that pressure and position Remain forever equal, balanced, just and whole… He shapes the solid soapstone with his strong and practised fingers And smooths the surface fondly with the other hand in time Then he shifts his stance above it, deliberately lingers And changes hands precisely, so the ritual will rhyme. He drops his blade and swears, and retrieves it with his right Then purposely repeats this with his left to feel complete He rubs his tired eyes, both hands at perfect height, And stretches with precision, level weight on even feet. His weary spirit sighs each time his limbs fall out of stride And the drive to keep his balance racks his heart, torments his brain Yet he knows there’s some small element deeply stored inside That links his craftsman’s name to the nature of his pain. It’s a long, long word, and it faces itself etc And so the mode continues as he wends his mirrored way To the order of his home, symmetrically planned, Where bewildered and exhausted by the rigours of the day Our soapstone seller dines, passing foods from hand to hand. His strange obsession fades as his heavy eyes roll back And sleep in all her splendour brings her merciful release Then our newly sharpened arrow travels deep in dreamy black Through the turmoil of his thoughts, to a place of welcome peace. He becomes the Vainamoinen, ancient father of the world Whose body shaped the ocean floor, each chasm, reef and crease, Whose eagle’s golden egg was shattered, seized and hurled And the firmament created with each tiny, shiny piece. Our traveller of the night becomes the spirit of the earth, The sorcerer in his trance touching worlds beyond our scope, He whispers with our forbears, shares their learning and their mirth Returning with their knowledge and the certainty of hope. Then off he flies again as the eagle’s gentle humming From the spurs of every star to the bed of every tree, The shaman who inhabits our creation’s rhythmic drumming And he slides across the shores as the white snake of the sea. The mighty Midgard Serpent, always present, ending never, Orbiting the Earth, in eternal silver rings, Shines out like a memor, Nordic symbol of Forever, And our sleeping friend is conscious of his place amongst the kings. It’s a long, long word, and it faces itself etc Even as he sleeps, his mortal voice is chanting Echoing in circles, like waves around our lands And as his song gains speed, some coincidence is planting The inkling of a journey over streaked and silvered sands. A silent light that calls him from the darkened lowland skies Lies somewhere in the centuries of layered stone he knows - His safely trodden future hears those metamorphic cries And his aching body yearns to find the rift where sorrow glows Too soon the soothing moon slips behind the cruel sun And our soapstone seller rises to the nightmare of his day. His muddled mind is weak before his labour has begun And we watch him lumber on in his strict compulsive way. But surely there is someone who can help restore his pleasures - Shall we ourselves search keenly as he sits like his own guest And lead him to the elder who defends his family’s treasures Whose empathetic insight might clarify his quest? But word precedes our musings, carried by his caring kin, And the older one approaches with an asymmetric gait. Immediately he senses through the soapstone seller’s skin The history of the ailment weighing down upon his fate. “You’re striving to defy the messages inside you Fighting to deny some predetermined course. Your pain will never lessen till you let your oddness guide you And lead you to your essence,” spoke the sage in oldest Norse. It’s a long, long word, and it faces itself etc “Something in the name, the calling of my trade Is trapped inside the word and it whispers to my heart. Help me free my trances from their nightly prison shade And trace the silvered pathways with the sun upon my chart.” We listen with our mason as the old one speaks in runes: “King Uakivikau, brave explorer of the oceans, Sailed towards his homeland, guided by the moons, Impatient to embrace his perfect love’s devotion. Queen Saippias, beautiful and pure, Bejeweled by the white and silver snake around her waist Sparkled like the pole star from the cliff above the shore And waved with both her arms for her treasured king to haste. No! The hanging rock beneath her feet begins to crumble And he moves to shake the underworld, and fill the sky with sounds Too late, his hands reach out as he sees his beauty tumble… The raging seas engulf her, and our king in grief is drowned.” We’re the swift and silky salmon that skims the upward brooks The fearless flying goose that scores the frozen air The livid lynx that scrambles up the slopes of racing rooks The dashing of the elk and the charging of the bear We’re the lightning in his eyes, the thunder in his ears The fires beneath the ocean forcing anger through its crust The baking of the stones through the terror of the years Blasting, drenching, fusing, grinding, cooling rock to dust. Our soapstone seller stumbles with the force of eastern gales He twists his pounding heel and he buckles at the knee But now the rich pain fuels him as he treads the coastal dales And the quarried land emerges where the white stone meets the sea… For a while he stops to ponder his acquaintance with the ocean Tastes the salty grave where the ancient secrets swim Breathes the very air, the sacred space in motion As Uakivikau finds life again - in him. And what of Saippias, moving softly with the tide, Grown still below the waves, sinking deep beneath its tears Trapped between the waters and the molten rocks inside Transformed and smoothed by fire and ice and undulating years…? His ankle weakens sharply and his laboured muscles ache And reckless anger tears him with a wrenching from his awe His bare hands plummet wildly and his solid powers quake As his tragic sobbing echoes through the white caves on the shore. For centuries from moving mines that reach above the bay Our soapstone seller’s stock for generations hewed the stone While trapped between its layers sweet serpentinite lay, And left to weather quietly, slept its sister stone alone… He rips along the snakestone like iron in a storm As the elements inside him pare his hand into a knife Then his frenzied heartbeat stills as he beholds the streamlined form And the timeless winds rush through him as he lifts her into life… Streaked with silver soft and white, elegant and pure… “My serpentinite love, O my own infinity! I’m whole again. I’ve found my soul! So sleep, my queen, no more. Take my hand, embrace this perfect universe with me!” We fly above the wonder and enchantment of the scene As they softly ride in joy upon their ever-rolling streams, Far above our soapstone King and Midgard Serpent queen Through mirrored lands, united hands and palindromic dreams…