This single line which marks a map:
A trail a single footstep wide.
And human understanding wanes
A single yard on either side.
The Viking sea laid at my back:
A highway through the ancient isles.
Ahead a gale and mountain track:
This vicious land where death is wild.
A hurricane hurled through the hills,
Drove rain as sharp as Cuillin peaks.
The track became a test of will,
As far from hope and help could be.
This singularity that’s life:
Absurd and free, I left the path.