7th Century Irish Poem
(I was gifted this from David, a Priest from Ireland - he said that it was a rather rough translation from the original Irish)
On the day when the weight deadens
on your shoulders and you stumble,
may the clay dance to balance you.
And when your eyes freeze behind the grey window
and the ghost of loss gets in to you,
may a flock of colours, indigo red, green and azure blue
come to awaken in you a meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours,
And so may a slow wind work these words of love around you,
an invisible cloak to mind your life.