This poem is meant to be sung to the Irish melody ‘Only Our Rivers Run Free’. It speaks to a resurrectionist hope that we are all called to have,
Our shared passion for stories will be a factor that saves us, keeping us balanced from isolated thought and not enough personal reflection.
Every conversation is really asking this simple question, because without it, we have no stories to tell. Only dreams.
When we lose the plot, stories exist to remind us of the ending.
In the myths and legends, divinity was something we grasped at, aching to have for ourselves. But the kind of relationship God wants is very different.
He had reached the End of the world… and even come back from it. There he had expected to find monsters with torturous tentacles splayed on cliffs, or perhaps bleak beasts of shadow that filled the horizon with occult mists, or perhaps a spiralling hole into heaven’s emptiness. But he didn’t find that.