On The Road To The Isles

On The Road To The Isles

Numbed by this alien terrain, where truth spells a montony of rain, we ride entombed towards our Shangri-La. Each fresh horizon taunts the tired eye, echoes the fretful sense of hours gone by. A weariness pervades this no-man's land. ***** Go West young man! We make our final fling - turning to be embraced by fire. The mist resorbed, light's pan-theophany revives a blighted mind. Rainbows and thunderfall engrave their echoes on the boundary of our wonderment, refresh a dormant sense. The sky line seethes - sun sanctified. ***** White, searing, the unseen sun burns from the core of mountains, transforms a shroud of haze into a panoply of light. Rocks swallowed by, still seize upon this shimmering - a spectral residue of more torrential times. Malcolm Evison