THE WESTERN EDGE
Inspired by ‘ A Song Among the Stones’ by Kenneth Steven
(S.Miller/E.Burton - PRS/MCPS)
I walked with my father here many years ago
Slow and long in evensong, faith will find us here
Lead me to the shoreline where the dead seas hold no tide
In this worn out tower I’ve found my place to hide
Women's voices darkening the high Novembered air
Spinning songs carried high above the wild and heavy storm
Bruised skies give no shelter, still we journey on
Rocked by sleep to reach the northern soil
A song among the stones
It’s better that you know
the bones of winter lay along the western edge
His prayers they have grown
Tell us a story of your own
Dreaming of a fevered sea song, prints woven in the light
Worn away by the restlessness, waiting for a sign
Lost in empty spaces in the layering of the walls
The rise and fall of the embers’ glow echoed in the hall
A song among the stones
It’s better that you know
the bones of winter lay along the western edge
His prayers they have grown
Tell us a story of your own
Silver slowly rises over Iona’s distant shore
The silence of the waiting sons at the heart of these sea roads
Scattered on the turning fields by the singing winds
Remember all the faces of those who journey on
A song among the stones
It’s better that you know
the bones of winter lay along the western edge
His prayers they have grown
Tell us a story of your own