"Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity."
-- Sean O'Casey
I feel the revolution as a train
that thunders on through Eire's sodden moor;
the whistle shrieks a cry that warns of pain
vibrations carry prophecies of war.
The revolution's coming with a cry
set burning by a nation's rage and ire;
on tracks unbending, one cannot deny
its courage as it follows fate to fire
The revolution rumbles on past Fionn
and carries with it, all along the way,
the memories of battles that have been
and crying out to golden Dealan-Dè.
But Dealan-Dè is dancing with the sidhe;
the revolution damned to history.
note: "Fionn" is pronounced "Finn"