The first two lines of this little number were written in a grubby apartment above the shops in Manor House, North London to be completed some eighteen months later as I sailed out of Glacier Bay, Alaska. Maybe I had an insight to moving away from the stagnating cloy of a big city to a wider world – I know not, but the lines sum up the sheer enormity of my time on the Pacific West Coast not expecting this world to deliver such beauty.
I have
Seen the dove fly from the Ark
And pure white light beyond the dark
Heard the sound of Sirens sing
Kissed the sky on a nightingale’s wing
Breathed the air of the Phoenix fire
Caressed the pit of carnal desire
Held the essence of thunder cloud
Smelt the sorrow on a widow’s shroud
Sipped the honey of Royal bees
Reached the depth of the deepest seas
And lived, and lived, and lived again
Respired, inspired, expired,
Amen