I would like to share with you a poem which has been with me for over a decade. It was conceived in Marrakesh on a trip to the airport from the old city. The moon was huge and orange and on its way behind the Medina wall. I was in a rattling old taxi sitting behind its hooded Arab driver. It felt as if time had slipped and we were between moments and the universe, with all its strange secrets, was about to whisper answers in my ear.

When the moon carries earths shadow on its back beyond our sight

Angels leave the points of light we call stars

and discuss the nights dreams whispering the workings of man.

Gently they offer us heavens sleeve and lead us through what is to become our past.

I didn't write the poem until a decade later but the image and the feeling are as fresh today as they were in Marakesh. I remember thinking that if the hooded Arab man (the morning was cold)had turned toward me I would have been able to look through his face into the countries past and glimpse in an instant the trials and tests we all face. It was a moment without time and one which changed me.

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