Something sits in the hills
just beyond reach
like an imaginary number
rooted but unreal
the key to it all
It lives in the cloud that changes
moment by moment
slipping from world to world
unravelling eternity
You can shut doors in your mind
but nothing is closed
in this patchwork land:
revelation comes and goes
And just when you feel safe
as years turn
secrets are revealed:
light burns through
shining on unexpected scars
Distance shifts: roads may
or may not be open:
tracks play tricks
and can lead anywhere –
death or life in the singing streams
Nowhere to hide:
covers are ripped away
heaven is torn open and
doves descend in the stillness
Sometimes other birds
This poem was written seven years ago – in Yorkshire, as the title suggests.