Dark wet wandering course of toil Laid upon our native soil Monument of forgotten hope Guiding chain where once was rope Around the neck of honest right Of ways to reach the coming night On streets a symbol of deliverance Named in desperate significance. Destinations yet uncertain Familiar force of occupation Within the sanctuary of…

Looking at last o’er Loch Rannoch remember the young girls laughter combust along the shore no more boats score the shingle on their way to sanctuary beneath once poignant trees Insidious time. Brave Schiehallion fairies guard the lands long surrendered to the whims of indulgence water of deep secret lying still amid the echo of…