At Boleskine Poem by Barry Van Asten

Oh wizard, tend my body, do,
And plant kisses in the garden of time;
Conjure spells that thunder through
My soul's sweet sleep sublime.
And if in haste, this world should be
Torn from our hearts, and thrown
From century to idle century
In the garden, overgrown...

Wand of desire, this love shall be
A rose-lipped hell of our own making...
In the dull roar of his monster voice - the sea!
A rough sea over the rocks was breaking!
And time will twist as our hearts fade
To the ceaseless echo, and remain
Nameless, deciphering the horror that's made
As we dance between the Devil and the Divine, again!

Hail to thee, great rapture of my heart;
I have sought the glory of thy name.
Let Love crown our souls in this Royal Art;
Let Love linger long in the hour of our fame!
And dark is the water that we know,
And steep the hill that we climb.
Oh passion, oh prophet, I fearless, grow
Towards a new dawn, touched by your time!