Of all the travelling I've done, the North's most in my heart:
I breathe the smells of ancient pines. They fill my every part.
That place of love, within; without; is so much more than feeling.
It sees itself in everything. It knows no floor or ceiling.
Everything dissolves and all that's left is you and me.
I don't know who you are because I cannot really see.
So I look beyond my vision and my open heart is sad:
I see you now, you gentle hearted man. How are you, Dad?
You died when I was 18 and it plunged me into grief,
And through the wilderness of loss beyond the underneath.
And through the wilderness I came, beyond the pain of death,
Sung back into life by Scottish pines and whispered breath –
It was always you amongst the pines. I understand that now.
I understand you chose to stay although I don' t know how.
I wish you'd met my children, though I know you're with us all,
Expanded into every tree and every waterfall.
