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Tuesday, 21 March 2006


Mountains surrounded my exile,

my steps the only sound a hundred miles ahead,

and no welcome but a multitude of ways.

Every corner in the uncut hills

scourged me to elect a destination,

but no winds nor north star

could guide me now, nor binnacle.

No bird flew above

the white-haired & blue-clad crags:

I searched every crossroad for a sign.

I had to make the runes.

I had to mark out the way.

[G.Bantock, 'Wilderness']


I was brave & climbed mountains.

I was proud & entered the rarified air.

I was mad & cried over chasms & cataracts.

A bard of the old world living beyond his era.

I won total audience.

My voice alone shattered the clear air.

My breath alone clouded the ringing pinnacles.

And no man heard me,

so far was I removed from the world of men.

[G. Bantock, Seer]

Monday, 13 March 2006

Nature is an Heraclitean Fire

Million fuel-ed, nature's bonfire burns on.

But quench her bonniest, dearest to her, her clearest selv-ed spark,

Man how fast his fire dint, his mark on mind, is gone!

[GM Hopkins]