Where the vagrant prince
once refuge sought -
he was declined
yet not betrayed

The old farmhouse
on the peninsula
just off the moorlands
overlooking the town

Were it to return
it would be suspended
many feet
in the air

The tranquil loch
laps the shore
by the side of the road
under the monument

A path runs on its banks
to a remote
yet beautiful
quiet inlet

The lighthouse beyond,
at the peninsula's end,
signalling the entrance to
the harbour bay

Its light never reached
to where many were once lost
although but a mile away
at the reefs of the Beasts

Heavy industry thunders
shrieks and grinds
cutting and welding
for oil, wind and wave

A revolving door
closed open shut
not reliable for
the island's future

Not for that
will the diaspora return
Not for a phantasmagora
dreamt up in a distant room

The island remains
Its people come and go
Twice a day, and at night
past Arnish Point

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