I was going through a rough period of my life

Although nothing was particularly amiss

I just felt that the very essence of history was under threat

And that I was witnessing its slow destruction

This happened again to me today as I was crossing an old airfield

That had unrestricted views over the sea and the nearby countryside

In the corner of the field I noted a pathetic drunk staring blankly into the sky

When I thought of all the brave airmen who had been based here

I felt angry for them that their memories were being soiled

By the little man who was sitting hunched on small bench half hidden by the trees

It was then that my wife told told me that the poor man was witnessing the light

A light that I could not see no matter how hard I tried as my obsession with history

Had blinded me and was slowly taking me into a darkness of my own creation

She suggested that I forget about the ghosts on the past and the history present

And quietly make my way to the coastal road where I might find a certain peace