I watched the film ‘Garnet’s Gold’ last night. It’s a beautifully shot, gentle and touching portrayal of a man called Garnet Frost.
20 years before, he had got himself lost in the Scottish wilderness where he’d resigned himself to dying. By chance, he’d been saved by a fisherman but had since been haunted by a memento from his ordeal. He believed a staff he’d found was a marker for one of history’s most famous lost treasures. The film follows his preparations to return to the loch in his quest to find gold. (Adapted from the film’s blurb on Amazon.)
It includes a poem written by Garnet Frost, which I think is beautiful:
Nearly Done Of all the things I nearly done, I nearly met the Aga Khan. I nearly buzzed the Southern Piers with Avis in his death machine. I nearly traversed across the desert on a camel with a Bedouin. I nearly painted golden towers. I nearly practised the guitar for hours. I nearly saw the meaning of a suffering soul. I nearly stormed the pitch and scored a goal. I nearly entered my account on time. I nearly was an honest man. But of all the things I nearly done, when all that’s nearly done is through, what’s done, what isn’t, when the bell has rung, there is nothing left to nearly do. If I can’t grasp a late degree, I’ll ever say, “It was for the lack of loving thee.” So let my heart be open and my way be true and let me put aside the things I nearly done and bring me daily closer to the things that I do do.
Note: photo from Matthias P R Reding on Unsplash