by Philip Dodd
I strayed into long ago, somewhere in the east, yes, the Orient. Time moved slow, like the wings of a cormorant. I made my way to a stall in a market square, shiny stones drew me there.
The old jeweller said: "Did you know, this earth sits on a sapphire, and by its glow the sky is blue?" I told him of that I was unaware, but what he said made sense of all of it.
Who I once was I never knew. To where I was, I had lost the clue. Among these turning wheels, the truth we strain to know. The cold chain we grasp, to fly or fall when we let go. There was I,
a sailor not long stepped ashore. A strange harbour to explore, haven for ships with scarlet sails. I stayed in an inn, slept without dream. When I woke, I felt I had the key to a paradise.
These oceans I would voyage, accept what was shown to me, till I knew I had found what I was looking for, that which my eyes alone would ever see.