we are all just passing through

this place of tabernacles and tombs

scripted in a language we

                                                   can no longer read
do the concentric circles carvings

freeze the breath of your sentimental heart?

are the zigzag lines accounts of storms

                                                    when lightning led the way?
oh the different stars and planets in your sky

are the living compass on which we all rely

mankind can journey in simple form

                                                     or pave poetic paths
how did your people learn my art?

did your people adorn their skin

did they share Songlines from my country

                                                     on their return to you?
let us sing a song for the Nungas

a song for the Gaeliges brave

at Knowth I stand in reverence

                                                     my art carved by your hand