Colin McGuire, you're glorious, you're smouldering,
you're Adonis on the beach, honey glazed, apple bottomed,
speedo adorned, boy of the century.
You are The Great Wall of China, The Shining Path,
The Nation of Islam, you are the help line
for abused and abandoned children of Nations.
You are E = MC2 times the speed of light,
you are the galaxy of Andromeda,
you are a clear night sky framing a chandelier of stars.
Your eyes, bright lights upon a cliff,
guide ships to shore. Your mouth, wide open,
is for orphaned birds to nest and soar.
You guide planes to land
in your park sized back garden,
with your massive luminous hands.
You're the Edinburgh Playhouse on fire.
You are a scatter of atoms raining under lamp light.
You are twelve months of the calender.
You're all the rivers converging to meet the ocean,
the streams, the puddles, the rain drop, the moisture.
McGuire you are the entire process of rainfall.
You commune with the Angels and Cherubs
who doze to the sound of your harp
in an apple orchard in Eden.
Colin McGuire, you are the hand of God,
trembling slightly,
as it accepts the award for lifetime achievements.
*Work to be done.
