27th January 2007

We speed over the deep dark lake
A wind gusts, choppy waves ruffle the surface
The light dims in the troubled skies
Storm clouds gather in the distance
A stand of poplars line the shore
Green-black in the twilight, casting long shadows over the waters

‘Last line, last line’ cries the Fisherman
‘We trawl the lake one last time’
The shore lights beckon, twinkling in the distance
Calling us Home
All is made ready

It is getting late, getting dark
The cold wind sighs and moans
We trawl but one last time

Night will come, my friend, this you know
Does this frighten you?
Then it is well
It is well that you should be afraid, now
Better your soul to keep
Than later, when the harpies shriek

When darkness falls outside
When the warm glow of Love
Is but a fleeting, distant memory
Echoing its lament through the caverns of eternity

When your lot is with the harpies
Shrieking their damnation
Through the vista of ages

No, it is better, friend, that you get caught now
Even now, at last light
This is all that remains
The eternal Now
The final Choice

Therefore, choose
Choose now
Be caught by Love
Or spin and tumble into the eternal Dark
Alone and lost, forever

Choose