This, the soldier of strength,
This, the gatekeeper of Mousa Sound.
This, the sentinel of Shetland
Watching over its destiny… its past.
No lime, nor cement, nor earth, sand and water.
Dry stone built, with precision and intent.

Thirteen meters of ancient architecture…
The wind still whistles around its kiln-like tower
And the rains still cut into its moss covered shell
The sun still pushes on its back, its side, its front
And it still stands as it has…for 20 centuries

The shadows who gave it birth,
Who breathed life into it,
Stone after stone after stone
Worn, heavy with sweat and anticipation
Are nearby, yet, have journeyed onwards… elsewhere.

This tower, this broch of Mousa Isle
Solid, daring, watching, remembering
So many, many lives
Once warming, once sheltering…protecting
Now tolerant, patient, reliant
Inviting in its secrets
Forever, standing guard over its waters