They came across the bridge
of ice in the company
of moose and dear, wolf and bear.
They came to the edge of the world,
only Hy-Brazil lay beyond here.
Ice, sea and the edge of heaven.
They came from heat and dry hills
where figs grew, to a land of water
and lush grass.
They came to a place of plenty.
They brought their Gods and priests,
their magic and their tastes.
They became the secret people
of the west
and settled in this land
where the sun drowned in grey.
They brought arcane arts,
builders craft, the raths and the dikes.
They formed alliances with the trees
understood the use of grain
and seed and leaf.
The spoke in tongues to the seas,
the rivers and streams.
They built great tombs and forts
to the glory of their gods.
They were the keepers of the sun,
the magic of the one.
They became the land
and the land became them,
the tribe, the clan the secret men.
They became the celts.
© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com