Below this heaven...

Below this heaven, under this field,

lie the bones of the victims of war,

the fallen whose days were cut short,

whose future was the present and

whose present was without a future.

Below this darkening cloud-flecked sky,

under these red poppies newly sprung,

repose the remains of the hapless youths

who never had the chance to blossom

nor to grow old, for they never grew up

Under these poppies, within this rich soil,

far from the light of the now setting sun,

are all that is left of thousands of souls

propelled into of a war begun by others

and whose end they were never to see.

Below this same sky…

in these same fields…

men fought…

and men died…

and now here they lie.

The Tree of the Heavenly Way

When the time comes, when you hear the voice in your head,

when the light grows ever dim and the dark is at its darkest yet,

when the signs are there, the way will be lit, the path before you,  

Follow the furrow through the meadow, follow it to the very end,

till you come to the place where stands the tree of the celestial light.

Clasp its gnarled trunk and feel the communion of Earth with Heaven.

Let it lift you gently, let it raise you towards the light from above,

do not fear, do not fret, trust in its wondrous power of release.

It will bear you aloft, comfort and cradle you, lighten your soul,

embrace you in its mighty arms, caress you in its golden mane.

Up and up it will carry you, skyward towards the heavenly light,

you will be as the lightest of feathers, weightless and floating free.

Up and up, ever higher, till there's naught between you and the sky,

till the Heaven-sent spirit descends, flowing over you, body and soul

and wrests you from the gentle grasp of the tree of the celestial light,

to bear you still higher and higher, drawing you up to the firmament.

There you will pause, caught twixt Heaven and Earth, life and death

where the divine soul breaks free of its mortal prison and flutters

gliding through the invisible ether, on its last journey to the Eternal.

When the time comes, follow the furrow through the meadow,

until you come to the great golden tree of the heavenly way,

and there you will find the peace and the calm of abiding Grace

where Light banishes Darkness and where Heaven meets Earth. 

Beacons of fire, beacons of hope...

The colours flapped in the fresh breeze, the beacon-fire threw tongues of flame skyward, and the sea beyond whispered to us like a fretful mother. We prepared to bed down for the night, and to keep a vigil over the commemorative fire. Tomorrow would be a new day, a new dawn, a new beginning, with fresh hopes and aspirations, the spiritual door to the rest of our lives and the birth of a new era.

The beacon of fire could be seen for miles around

We slept in turns and somewhat fitfully, our sleep accompanied by the crackle of the nearby raging beacon-fire, one of thousands lit throughout the land to mark our Queen's long and glorious reign, to celebrate her stalwart occupancy of the throne of this hard-bitten northern land whose proud people had faced countless trials over the centuries and come through every ordeal made stronger and more resolute.

This beacon and thousands of others lit on this chill-laden night, the most primitive and most ancient symbol of life, renewal and raw energy, proudly announced the rebirth of this scarred land and a belief in a strong and dynamic future. It would burn throughout the night and into the morrow before it gave up its last gasps.


I half-closed my eyes and half-looked towards the leaping fire ahead and the darkening sky above and I was not afraid anymore... it would be alright, there was hope and there would be a tomorrow springing phoenix-like from the flames of the present....