A spirit that has yet to catch up with the soul
That skips away in the sun at the height of summer
Tis a running with the green grass
Giving up its sparkling tears of newly made dew
Run free spirit there are things to do and places to go
The soul will not weary or dull
If you see things with an open mind
As if a child holding onto its first flower
The beauty is a challenge to the physical being
Only hold a flower as a child in wonderment
For we are as the flowers.
In the “Aisling”, Ireland appears to the poet in a vision in the form of a woman,
sometimes young and beautiful, sometimes old and haggard.
Our lady dressed in flowing Emerald green
Tears stream at your peoples troubles, as does the rain
In rivulets that sometimes catch the sunshine.
Yet your feet are bleeding the blood of ages
It will take many miracles to mend this beautiful land,
This is your home, given by the Angels of past times.
A drop of green Angel dust in the Ocean seen
Can we start again to make this jewel shine.