Horizons near

The following poem is dedicated to the memory of Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) most famously known as the author of Treasure Island. The Tusitala° spent the last 5 years of his life in Western Samoa. When he died he was carried to the top of a mountain and laid to rest. His near horizon the Pacific Ocean. His far horizon - who knows? Astronomers tell us that 96% of our 13.7 billion years Universe consists of invisible dark matter.

Stevenson's grandfather invented the flashing light used in lighthouses and was himself involved in the design and building of no less than 27 lighthouses. A series of lighthouse pictures will appear at the foot of the Poet in Residence pages for the next few weeks.


Horizons near

and far
surround my bones

no matter
where and how I move
or go
and also where
and how I stay

too silent

still in truth

or lie.

In and of the centre
then
my levered being moves

and always
through
the days and nights

that are never for the time
horizon
-less.

And yet
I know the other

flying on the dark ship's black
and billowed sail;

fluttering
light before the dawn
the death head's
white and outward
flying face.

The horizon crossed

now serves
to give
my levered moving
meaning.

°the story teller
_____
gw2009