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. 

4^th October 1950

Image: Ullapool Museum