'That'll put the jizz back in you,'
said old Brid, her eyes glinting,
as she handed me a bowl of real water
from the purest well in Gleann an Atha...
'It's had to find a well these days,'
said old Brid, filling up my bowl again.
'They're hiding in rushes and juking in grass,
all choked up and clatty with scum
but for all the neglect they get
their mettle is still true.
Look for your own well, pet,
for there's a hard time coming.
There will have to be a going back to sources.'
Fountain of Light: from that light flows the light that is essential for the very existence of life, and the light of understanding in which the point of life, its meaning, its purpose and direction, can, within our limited capacity, be grasped. Divine light, not artificial, not intermittent, seasonal, or subject to power cuts. But issuing from God as from a fountain ceaselessly playing, springing up endlessly and joyously, irradiating the uttermost parts of the universe, suffusing the darkest corners of the human heart.