Your spirit can spread its wings
To soar in the twinkling of an eye
Up into the dazzling snowy cliffs and valleys
Of a sunny autumn sky,
And dance on the dark blue-grey banks
Of a fiery golden lake
In which the evening sun sinks
With silent magnificence.
You can hear the song
That the wind sings
As it flies across the fields.
For you are fortunate.
Lying voices may whisper
That your precious treasure is worthless.
Do not believe them,
They have spent too long scrabbling in the mud,
They have forgotten how to dance with the angels.
All the world's wealth
Could not match what you've received.
For who can imprison the dreamer?
And who can rob him of his dreams?
Believe me, my friend, when I say
That `idle dreams' and `foolish madness'
Are the only hope of sanity
That this world has.
Music that takes you round corners,
Like healing tears that wash your soul clean,
Like rose petals falling softly on the surface of a pool,
Like a sunrise spilling over a mountain range
In a glorious burst of morning majesty,
As the heart of a glacier cracks
Over the sheer beauty of spring,
Like the tender touch of God
In our confused and broken lives,
The music plays on
Taking us round corners.
A Blink of Heaven
It was only for a moment,
As we brought in the last bags from the car.
We looked up and saw a rent
In the sad rainy cloth of the evening sky,
As if two great hands had torn it apart,
And through that hole
We saw a soft shining blue sky
And a single cloud
Of purest gold.
Poems by Edith Craig, Scotland