An Ireland Poem
In the north, there is a place winding in a castle of hills where the conversations of two friends become part of rivers.
The voice of the rushing wind, blended within the trees of old, tells stories of a faithful peace that stretches across the land, reaching the oceans of history.
With every morning breath, there is a still, quiet, welcoming thought, reminding you this is where you ought to be.
You’re part of the land, you’re part of us here, breathe in my warmth, and take a step with me. Walk down the road, around the bend where there are fellow men, happy with music all around.
The lush and green country is the place where spirits sing.
Where laughter starts with a distant melody of ones own pilgrimage.
The rocky cliffs down to where the ocean forms are a place that no man has forgotten.
Where they may have seen a creature that told stories long ago.
Around another bend is where I found favor with a long-lost friend I had been seeking since I was ten. This must have been where the Lord took rest on the seventh day.
So still, yet so happy, are these favorite places of mine. If I could, I would bring them home with a song full of meaning and wealth that the world has yet to see.
