On the far horizon stands a church

A small cathedral where the birds will  perch

It brings to mind the marshes of the Blythe

Facing Eastward where the sun would rise 

Yet this is mere illusion, trick of mind

I see  cathedrals no one else can find

The figure and the ground have been reversed

Heaven or hell I don’t know which is worse.

I saw the sunrise   I was on the beach

The fishing boats went east till out of reach

There was Britten gazing  out to sea

After that  was you and there was me 

The last time that we went we walked all round. 

We never spoke or said what we had found

Yet in my mind I see your holy place

How I wish that I could see your face.