the light from her eyes was an aria descending the mountain a lyrical quaking hum lifting the heavy dust from me unbinding the earth from my feet Lazarus leaving Plato’s cave a snake shedding its skin a Celtic moon mystery delights with a soft gaze from the Gentle Queen whose fire reignites my soul’s imramma riding high on Manannán mac Lir’s watery steed towards that island of Tír na nÓg just beyond the line of sky and sea; Oisín and Niamh