Re-imagine this island, once called great
not merely motorway-scarred, a broken mirrorscape
but as a beginning of what we must become
if we are to live as one world people -

and we are its molten confusion, fired to ash:
smutty news, broken schools, littered roads
our heads held low, our hearts afraid
under the parade of all we are supposed to want...

But raise your eyes - and your glasses, friends -
where the fantasy fails is where life can be as she is
and Albion can rise, phoenix-like again,
buffed bright as a wind-filled spinnaker

our hope, where we live - in every village and street,
in all we can do for each other, and the God of Love.


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