Your core is sad dear Celt,
Each morning in confusion felt.
Like a child lost, parents away,
Tortured time within a day.
Not knowing when, how, or where,
Can moments cure dejected care?
Your thoughts are lonely dear Celt,
Each evening in deep sadness felt.
For jeeghyn as shee, all away,
Censored time in every day.
Like blood itself, kept within,
Purged here for mishap there for kin…
Your thoughts are focussed dear Celt,
Each night in your loneliness felt.
The answer, you sense, not far away,
Piercing blindness every day whilst knowing…
Those that could wake to the sword,
May have failed to think when bored.