Soft summer night. I stand above the bay
Silvered horizon, the moon’s distorted track
Reflecting boundary between this sphere and the next
Folds of different darkness shadowed at my feet
Drowsed roar of surf on broken cliffs beneath.

Across water village lights speak friends
Homes, warm bodies merged in love.
It’s true that I could walk the darkened lanes
Risk unseen briars, stumbling in the now black grass.
But it would take time. Lights go out
And sleep cuts off that good world from my reach.

I turn to look above. The stars are village lights
A haven cut off by vasts of time and space.
Are they too partners in a dance of life
Complex joy of satisfied desire
Singing music beyond range of human ear?

Suppose my reference point was not myself
Sea, village, stars defined by where I stand?
So I no longer gazed across a void
Missing songs in which I cannot join
But were in truth already in the dance?

Empowered with sureness I am not alone
With knowledge that what lies out there is true
Then I am no lost stranger here
Outside the wall, cut off by all past choices
From dancing rhythm, the beauty of those voices?

Could I remain here? Self-denied my rightful place
Self-condemned to darkness, refusing grace
Passage across the boundaries of the spheres
To starlight music that denies the void
To village firelight love to be enjoyed.

I had been reading C. S. Lewis’s “The Discarded Image”, where he speaks of the mediaeval
world view of humankind being confined to the innermost sphere of the heavens (delimited by
the orbit of the moon), excluded from full participation in the music of the spheres by the Fall
–our own choices –. Then, a few nights later, I saw the lights of Boscastle with the moonlit
sea between and the idea came.