The Poem on the Stone of Loughcrew.

,

There is no beauty in the crashing waves,
Now your sun has sunk below the dark horizon.
Your spirit walks palely beside us.
Your food lies cold on untouched plates.
As we build your tomb.

All your deeds lie open for those with eyes to see,
The book of records.
Your spirit stands amongst us.
You were the greatest and noblest of kings
With eightfold wisdom:

1.
You saw things as they truly are:
The beginning and the end of the path.
The transient and the invisible
And brought peace to the land.

2.
You acted without greed:
Treating all with compassion
Goodwill and consideration
And brought peace to the land.

3.
You spoke truthful words
Gloved in warmth and kindness.
You knew the value of silence and of harmony
And brought peace to the land.

4.
Your halls were open to all
Your knife lay forgotten in its sheaf
You took only what was given
And brought peace to the land.


5.
You harmed none by the way you lived
Sun and rain
Gave you riches alone
And brought peace to the land.

6.
You righted the wrongs of the past
With unhurried time as your friend
Shielding your pastures
And brought peace to the land.

7.
You stood in the turning centre of the moment
Humbly guiding the plough of past and future
Towards the right.
And brought peace to the land.

8.
You saw beyond the veils
Like a mountain rising above the clouds
Blessed by starlight
And brought peace to the land.


Under the rule of star, moon and sun
We place your grave
As your spirit decreed
Close to the grave of your queen
Who loved you enough to enter her tomb alive.

As we sing of you in this place
May our voices carry you
As your spirit heeds
To the other shore
Of fearlessness and immortality.

May the year’s twice shining light
When day and night are equal
Free your spirit,
Eochaidh Ollamh Fodhla
Creator of the Feis Teamhrach,
maker of laws,
reformer and reviser of antiquities,

Keeper of genealogies, and chronicles,
purger of corrupted records and falsehoods,
To walk amongst us once more
And bring peace to the land.
Until then dear poet
Sleep in the wizened white wintry arms
of the Goddess Bhéara.