It was before the gates closed
Afore these tides faded from the shore
That this Isle of blessed union state
held the mystery of time
and breathed upon the gentle air
the promise of the eternals.

Warriors crafted to the songs
the old tales that utter from ancient lips
hover here still in the glens and braes
The battles and forays of time,
When Gods raged the dreams of man
and laid to sleep the quest of their visions
To behold the mighty chambers bold.

Before we lost the wisdom
A time prior to mans distant past
That still begs its utterance
upon the blades of emerald fields
Within the fine haunting mists of Time.
We journey each these ancient shores
Unseen to their games of yore
that still continuously plays
The heroes -Gods, Fairy Queens
The realms of the ever living ones.

Now and then
When the moment strikes the hearts familiar
There rushes between the branches of Oak and Rowan
The faded whispers of their Gaelic tongue
To drench an opened mind yet again
To the melodies of their Pipes and harps
upon silent airs and casual jigs
The buttercup sways, dandelion sparkles
where the Robin full breasted chirps
to the unending tune of life
Giving honour to the ancient graces and accord
That fills the pine filled glades of home.

We sit now silent
empty to those old causes, ways
that filled our fathers to martial story
And held the flame of these Isles alive.
Gone now, faded ever so fast
that we fail in our grasp of reason
for that which cannot be held
and we ransom ourselves
To the bidder of tales
Hollywood romances and dreams
that hold us empty to the truth of what we are
Till lost in our journey we long the simple ways again.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph