Here on the edge of Europe I stand on the edge of being.
Floating on light isle after it takes wing.
Burning blue are the peaks, rock that is older than thought, And the sear burns blue – or is it he air between? –
They merge, they take one another upon them.
I have fallen through time and found the enchanted world.
Where all is beginning.
The obstinate rocks
Are a fire of blue, a pulse of power, a beat
In energy, the sea dissolves
And I too melt, am timeless, a pulse of light.
4th October 1950
Image: Ullapool Museum