They live in the lamplight of dusk
riven shade, releasing souls
from the stone of dolmen beds
Diarmuid and Gráinne stretched
out on when fleeing from Fionn.
We live as water, their lair’s
underground and we listen
to sea shells for sounds of their life
crowding in on us.
Now their memory is lost, dream
stealing and tossed by love,
bent by Manannán’s whim,
we steer the world, a spinning top
of life, the merry go round
they draw still, and watch
collecting in the ether, the air
of humanity’s ghost,
its shadow dissolving their light,
and our rough thought, swept
gentle in the grain of speech
a hue of Áine and Aengus Óg.
Stay upon our rock and set love
free, be gentle and kind
whilst remembering life
is precious, breathing invisibly
still, hear?
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