Traditional Irish Blessing

"Ballad of a Runaway Horse"

Say a Prayer

 for the Cowgirl,  her Horse Ran away

She'll Walk till she Finds him, her Darlin' her Stray

But the River's in Flood, and the Roads are Awash

And the Bridge's Break up, in the Panic of Loss.

And there's Nothing to Follow, No where to go

He's Gone Like the Summer, Gone Like the Snow

And the Crickets are Breaking her Heart with their Song

As the Day Caves in, and the Night is all Wrong.

Did she Dream,

 was it he, who went Galloping Past

And Bent down the Fern, Broke open the Grass

And Printed the Mud, with the Well-hammered Shoe

That she Nailed to his Feet,
 in the Dreams Of her Youth.

And although he goes Grazin',  a Minute Away

She Tracks him all Night, she Tracks him all Day

And she's Blind to his Presence, Except to Compare

Her Injury Here, with his Punishment There.

Then at Home on a Branch,

 on a High Stream

A Songbird Sings out, so Suddenly

And the Sun is Warm and the Soft Winds Ride

On a Willow Tree, by the Riverside.

Ah,

 the World is Sweet

 and the World is Wide

He's there where the Light, and the Darkness Divide

And the Steam's comin' off him, he's Huge and he's Shy

And he Steps on the Moon, when he Paws at the Sky.

And he Comes to her Hand,

 but he's Not really Tame

He Longs to be Lost, she Longs for the Same

And he'll Bolt and he'll Plunge, through the first Open Pass

To Roll and to Feed, in the Sweet Mountain Grass.

Or he'll make a Break for the High Plateau

Where there's Nothing Above, or Nothing Below

It's Time for their Burden, the Whip and the Spur

Will she Ride with Him, or Will he Ride with Her. 

So she Binds herself, to her Galloping Steed

And he Binds himself to the Woman in Need

And there is No Space, just Left and Right

And there is No Time,

 But there is Day and Night.

Then she Leans on his Neck,

 and Whispers Low

Whither thou Goest, I will Go

And they Turn as One, and they Head for the Plain

No Need for the Whip, No Need for the Rein.

Now the Clasp of this Union,

who Fastens it Tight

Who Snaps it Asunder, the very Next Night

Some Say it's Him, some Say it's Her

Some say Love's like Smoke, Beyond all Repair.

So my Darlin',

 my Darlin', just Let it Go By

That olde Silhouette, on the Great Western Sky

And I'll Pick out a Tune, and they'll Move right Along

And they're Gone Like Smoke,

and they're Gone Like this Song.

~Say a Prayer for the Cowgirl...

~Emmylou Harris/Leonard Cohen

U.S.A.

~Beannaichte'

1 February, 2017 

@beannaichte.twitter.com.

" Snow Girl"

"Wife, 

let us go into the yard behind 

and make a little

Snow Girl;

and perhaps she will come alive,

and be a little daughter for us."

"Husband,"

says the olde woman,

"there's no knowing what may be.

Let us go into the yard and make a little

Snow Girl."

***

Then one morning,

when the last of the Snow had melted,

she came to the olde couple and kissed them both.

"I must leave you now," she said.

"Why?" they cried.

"I am a child of the Snow.

I must go where it is cold."

"No! No!"  they cried.

"You cannot go!'

They held her close,

and a few drops of Snow fell to the floor. 

 Quickly she slipped from their arms 

and ran out the door.

"Come back!' they called.

"Come back to us!" 

***

As she gazed upon him,

Love...

filled every fiber of her being,

and she knew that was the Emotion

that she had been Warned against

by the

Spirit of the Wood.

Great Tears welled up in her eyes...

and suddenly

she began 

to

Melt.

~"Snegurochka",

translated by Lucy Maxym

~Beannaichte' 

29 January, 2017
  

@beannaichte.twitter.com

Vince Gill - Go Rest High On That Mountain

"Ode"

We

 are  the  Music-makers,

We  are  the Dreamers of  Dreams,

Wandering  by  Lone  Sea-breakers,

And  Sitting  by Desolate  Streams;

World-losers  and  World- forsakers,

On  whom  the Pale Moon  Gleams:

Yet  we  are  the Movers  and  the Shakers

Of  the World  forever, 

 it seems.  

With 

 wonderful   Deathless Ditties

We  Build  up  the  World's  great  Cities,

And  out  of  a  Fabulous Story

We  Fashion  an  Empire's  Glory:

One  man  with  a  Dream,  at  Pleasure,

Shall  go  Forth  and Conquer  a  Crown;

And  Three  with  a  new  Song's  Measure

Can  Trample  an  Empire 

 Down.

We, 

in  the  Ages  Lying

In  the  Buried  past  of  the  Earth,

Built  Ninevah  with  our  Sighing,

And   Babel   itself  With  our  Mirth; 

And  O'erthrew them  with Prophesying

To  the Olde  of  the New World's Worth;

For  Each  Age  is  a  Dream 

 that  is Dying,

Or  One that is Coming

to

Birth.

~Arthur O'Shaughnessy

(1844-1881)

~Beannaichte'

25 January, 2017

@beannaichte.twitter.com 

"Shadow of Loss"

~ In Loving Memory of Sharon...

It

 is hard to sing

 of  Oneness when our world is not Complete,

when those who once brought Wholeness 

to our Life have gone,

and nothing but Memory

can fill the emptiness

their Passing leaves behind.

But Memory

can tell us only what we were,

in company

with those we Loved;

it can not help us find what each 

of us,

alone,

must now become.

Yet no one is really alone;

those who live no more echo still within

our Thoughts and Words,

and what they did is a part

 of what we have Become.

We do best homage to our dead

when we live  our lives most Fully,

even in the Shadow

of our

Loss.

~Jewish Prayer

~Beannaichte'

15 January, 2017

@beannaichte.twitter.com

   

"Fiction"

~ It

is said:

Fiction

is where

someone

gets to tell

the

Truth.

~ Unknown

~ Beannaichte'

5 January, 2017

@beannaichte.twitter.com