Episode 8. The Long Night and the Rising Fire

🌿Seanchaí Intro:
Lean close, for the night was long.
And yet, the embers never truly died.

Tonight, we walk with the ones who carried the flame,
through sorrow, through silence, through centuries.
Listen well, for their heartbeat is your own.

🌿🔥🌈

They came with crown and cross,
with paper laws and muskets,
and tried to drain the wild from our blood.

For eight long centuries,
we learned how to speak in silence,
how to dance in chains,
how to grieve without turning to stone.

But it wasn’t just warriors who held the line.

It was the farmer at dawn,
the fisherman on storm tossed sea,
the hunter in quiet communion with the forest,

the grandparents who sang in whispers,
and the parents who nurtured the soil as if it were sacred scripture.

Our stories hid in the hedgerows.
Our tongues bent, but did not break.

The fires dimmed,
but never extinguished.

We carried our homeland in our marrow,
across seas and centuries,
in famine and exile,
in turf smoke and holy wells,
in songs sung low beneath foreign flags.

And when the empire faltered,
we rose.

Not just with rifles,
but with poems and songs,
with hands calloused by land,
and hearts tuned to the old songs.

We broke through.

The common folk,
the overlooked,
the sacred keepers in plain clothes,
we stood up.

And the land itself breathed a little freer.

Freedom came, at least of a kind.
A patchwork flag stitched with courage,
but the wound of justice still weeps.

No truth commissions for broken tongues. 

No trials for the stolen children.
No recompense for the silence forced upon us.

But still,
we are here.
And we are dreaming again.

No longer merely surviving,
we turn our heads to the stars,
not to escape,
but to remember.

To feel again the divine energy
once caged for man's greed,
now stirring in our bones like firelight.

🎵 The harp plays again… into the infinite ☘️
not in mourning,
but as invocation.

To dream new dreams.
To speak new myths.
To rise,
not just from the ashes,
but into the infinite.

We begin again.

With our feet in the soil,
our hearts in the heavens,
and our eyes open to wonder.

🌿Seanchaí Closing:
May your feet remember the soil.
May your heart remember the heavens.
May your soul rise, like the phoenix 🐦‍🔥 from the ashes, 

into the infinite.

The long night is ending, dear one.
The dawn is yours to sing. 

🌿🔥🌈


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Episode 07. The Shattering and the Silence