I journeyed to the Lower World
To meet my Spirit Guide
And found myself following a path
With a wolf by my side
Affording me friendship and protection
He seemed at the time
To be my totem animal and gentle guardian.
We walked along a river bank
Sunshine glistened on the water
There were otters swimming playfully
Some were lying belly up
Basking in the sun’s warm rays
Their carefree, unbridled joy
Made me yearn to have a life like theirs.
‘To wit-to woo’, an owl’s shrill cry
Pierced me through
And jerked me out of my reverie
I glimpsed him only for
A split second high up in the branches
Where I saw his round dark eyes
And later pondered what wisdom he espoused.
We continued walking, the wolf and I
The sound of gushing water
Came into earshot and grew louder
Until its source was unveiled
A waterfall, flowing down a rocky hillside
Its drops, a prism for the sun
To reveal in a rainbow the full colour spectrum
Continuing on, the path grew steeper
Up ahead I could see openings
Like caves in the stony embankment
Climbing higher now and over to the left
Was a view out to sea with a rocky island
Shrouded in mist, like some mythical Atlantis
Or could it be the enchanting Skellig Michael?
Up ahead on the path by the entrance
To a cave stood a bald-headed man
With a red beard and rimless glasses
Wearing a hooded robe like a monk
He had a calm, intelligent demeanour
And I couldn’t quite work out
Why it was that he looked so familiar
He nodded towards the cave
As though beckoning me to enter
I could just discern from its dark interior
A high stone table or altar upon which
Lay an opened book, displaying a message
That was only just written, for the ink was still wet
A quill rested on the page with an ink pot beside it
The message was in Gaelic
‘Conas ata tu? Ta me ag fanacht
Leat ar feadh tamaill fhada. Is mise Adrian’
When I emerged from the cave the man had gone
But I knew the message was from him
He wrote his name was Adrian
And he had been waiting for me a long time
Sometime after this adventure
I had a lucid dream where
I was a monk on Skellig Michael
One of my colleagues there was Adrian
As well as saying prayers and fasting
We were employed as Scribes, custodians
Of sacred knowledge, which to this day gives
Ireland the title, 'Land of Saints and Scholars’
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