The sons of Gael once tore their way across what the Romans call Europa. They went from the rocky coasts and wide plains, over the mountains which hold up the sky, found Rome and burnt it, left again and scouted through the land of grape and wheat, hewed boats and braved the troubled waters, eschewed the Isle of the Mighty to find the Isle of the Gods. There, they stole it from the gods and named it the Isle of Destiny, saying that there was no place more fit for a people such as they, a quiet corner for the poet’s heart, which drinks late into the night, weeps, and tells tales to soothe itself. Thus, for hundreds of years they lived, in company with those gods who fled into the holes of the hills and the ocean. But far away a God is born to a Virgin, and now He has come to claim even this, the furthest and most wasted portion of His great inheritance.
Nathaniel Slattery is an Irishman residing in Tennessee with his wife and children. He gives himself over to good works in writing, editing, shepherding, carpentry, publishing, and other various labors. He has several other titles to enjoy, and if he can do anything for you, he can be contacted at:
PO Box 193
Mountain City, TN 37683
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