Long away and far ago, in the small hours of a Monday morning after a hedonistic weekend of excess. I found myself listening to a music mix on the radio while attempting to crash at my place, perchancing to dream into a week of healing quiet.
This excerpt was included in a mix that stayed with me in fond nurturing memory and has now come back to mind following the BBC’s Book Of The Week, Modern Nature.
I post it here for your delight.
In azure Seas
Deep waters washing the isle of the dead
In coral harbours amphora spill gold across the still seabed
We lie there
Fanned by the billowing sails of forgotten ships
Tossed by the mournful winds Of the deep
Lost boys sleep forever In a dear embrace
Salt lips touching
In submarine gardens
Cool marble fingers Touch an antique smile
Shell sounds whisper
Deep love drifting on the tide forever
The smell of him
Dead good looking In beauty’s summer
His blue jeans
Around his ankles
Bliss in my ghostly eye
On the lips
On the eyes
Our name will be forgotten
No one will remember our work
Our life will pass like the traces of a cloud
And be scattered like Mist that is chased by
the Rays of the sun
For our time is the passing of a shadow
And our lives will run like Sparks through the stubble
I place a delphinium, Blue, upon your grave.
BBC Radio Four – Book of the Week