I met a man up on the moors,
In fog and mud and almost night,
In drizzle, dampness and in sight
Of no one else. No heather there, or yellow gorse,
Just barren emptiness and gloom
And yet on waking from this dream
I felt the scene had been my room
The chalky, grey green colour scheme
Through open eyes, while sleeping seen.
Who was the ragged man I met?
I felt, on waking, I had been
To make a pact, yet I forget
The nature of our strange contract.
Yet deep relief flowed through my veins,
I knew that things would be alright,
As if I'd burst my heavy chains,
And was now free and safe, despite
The lonely place I wandered in,
The only place with wonder in,
The place of dreams, which yet are real,
Which do not tell, and yet reveal
Such things we might not dare to know,
Much more than what they seem to show.