Grianan Swilly

@unknownswilly.bsky.social

“Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

The wayfarer Perceiving the pathway to truth Was struck with astonishment. It was thickly grown with weeds. "Ha," he said, "I see that none has passed here In a long time." Later he saw that each weed Was a singular knife. "Well," he mumbled at last, "Doubtless there are other roads."

Stephen Cane, "Black Riders", 1894 
Forgotten by time and tide. Grange, Inch Island, Inishowen.

A man said to the universe: "Sir, I exist!" "However," replied the universe, "The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation." Stephen Crane, "Black Riders", 1894 Lough Foyle, Moville, Inishowen, Co Donegal

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As I made my way to the Grianan today, seeing her nicely nestled on her hill, I was reminded of a little poem I enjoyed a long time ago. It was written by Claes Anderson and is called Etüde für Sommerwind - Etude for Summer Wind.

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