Awaiting my salvation in Fiacc's Pool beneath Rosnaree

The following is from a chapter I wrote recently for a book that I've started writing, about Irish mythology and in particular the myths concerning the great monuments of Brug na Bóinne near where I live. The exploration sometimes has a personal and philosophical nature which reflects my interaction with the myths of the Boyne Valley. These myths have become a source of fantastic and all-pervading influence and inspiration in my writing.

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Dramatic skies over Brug na Bóinne.

Bless me father, for I have sinned.

What is your sin?

I have forgotten the old ways, the ways of my ancestors.

The old ways are dead, my son. You must learn the new ways.

The old ways are not dead. They are merely sleeping, in the belly of a fish that swims beneath the nine hazels of Segais. I will wade out into the water now, towards Fiacc’s Pool, and there await the coming of my salvation.

No-one can come to the Father, except through me.

I do not wish to come to the Father. I wish to come to myself. I wish to some to myself through imbas, and to know myself in a way that I have never known myself. I will wait for the salmon, at Fiacc’s Pool. And in the dim Wood of the King beneath Rosnaree, I will become Finn, wanting to be with my ancestors at Brug na Bóinne. And Finegas the wise will teach me poetry beneath Knowth, while we wait for the Bradán Feasa.

I cannot help you any more.

Thank you for trying.