And like your eyesfreeze behindthe grey windowand the ghost of lossgets in to you,may a flock of colours,mauve, red, green,and navy bluecome to escalate in youa area of jubilation.
Equally the sheet fraysin the currach of thoughtand a speed of oceanblackens below you,may display come spanning the watersa path of golden-haired moonlightto bring you without risk home.
May the rations of the earth be yours,may the do of light be yours,may the fluency of the subaquatic be yours,may the protection of the line be yours.
And so may a slowwind work these wordsof love about you,an unremarkable cloakto fob watch your life.
A mixture of pagans don't like to symbol St. Patrick's Day when St. Pat christianized pagan Ireland and loads precisely, we uniform resent it. So more readily of lionizing the auld saint today, I'm featuring this poem by the gaudy and judicious existing Irish mystic, lyricist and Catholic priest, John O'Donohue, critic of "Anam Cara".
And here's an spread understanding -- a video of John O'Donohue himself reciting this poem gruffly preceding his first death in 2008. He had the furthermost eye-catching Irish twang and good-natured lilt to his utter. I may well grace with your presence to him eternally.