Go where you want to spread the torch..
Take the string and pull the chord..
Look up in search of the lord..
Dig through deep hollow wells..
Take me there to the road that ends..
Show me the window which opens to the hill..
Pass by me even if your shadows will..
Switch it on when the time says play..
Open in the dark and close by the day..
Flicker the flame when the wind stood still.
Cheat the chest on those wind mills..
Blow the trumpet if the curtains go down..
Take your arrow and shoot the clowns..
Push the wall that lies between..
Colour all those open and opaque screens..
Prick the thorns that lie on the stems..
Tick the times when you are at the bends..
Tailor the stiches that lie within..
Clamp your feet and Roger that film..
Deep below there lies a golden chest..
In your hunger for the quest..
Into oblivion your several dreams..
But the undying focus still screams..
Photo: Atlantic wharf, Cardiff