I’d come around
In the early winter evening.
The skies were cloudy, but broken enough
To let through some of the golden light,
As the sun began to set
Over the Northern Sea.
All the times I’d come here to be
The peace had always helped.
It was never quiet,
Not with the waves, always
Breaking over the rocks below,
But so it was, and it was peace,
and it had always helped.

I set the diamond on a rock,
It blazed in the golden sunlight;
It didn’t seem right, though.
An eastern wind blew through the grass
On the bluff where I sat and listened;
I listened to the tranquil place where I was.
A moment passed, maybe more than that;
Here, time had always meant less.
Looking over the sound,
I could see the other two islands
And the Northern Sea, where I was.

I picked up the last piece, and held it
Up to the dying light of the sunset.
All the others I’d thrown into the wind
As a heavy gust blew out over the sea.
It had only taken one careful swing
Of a good sized rock
To shatter the diamond.
Now I held the only piece left
Of what was.
It didn’t blaze at all, but was beautiful.
It glimmered simply in the last light;
it was right.