Episode 08: The Long Night and the Rising Fire

“The night was long, yet, the embers never truly died.”

🌿🔥🌈

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

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

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 were hidden in the hedgerows.
Our tongues bent, but they 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, and in songs sung low beneath foreign flags.

Then, when the empire faltered, we rose, with rifles, poems and songs, with hands calloused by the 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 to remember who we once were.

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 ☘️

To dream new dreams.
To speak new myths.
To rise from the ashes, into the infinite.

We begin again.

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

Now our soul rises, like the phoenix 🐦‍🔥 from the ashes, into the infinite for the long night is ending, and dawn is ours to sing. 

🌿🔥🌈