BALLAD OF A GAELIC PROPHET

In my brief time upon this earth
I learnt of great things done
and felt souls’ tendrils gather, swell
at wonderful tales sung.

Through all the wanderings I breathed
the air which The One spoke
and, after each bejewelled night,
supped of it when I woke.

But bickering came upon my kin
so petty that I wept
over which chief should be kingpin.
I drew my cloak and slept.

My slumber broke upon this shore,
stirred by malignant curse –
watched wisdom and evil grow;
world’s ears to truth averse.

But as I sadly walked the beach,
I heard sea-shells chuckle.
Beyond death their tan and peach
still held beauty muckle.

I see as from the tallest pole
a future without net
where some will strive and some will fold
beneath crimson sunset.