The Why and the Wherefore.

Where is the pass over the mountain

That leads to Tír Na nÓg?
Is it found only in dreams?
Faery dreams, those friendly sisters
Hand in hand on their journey
To the meeting of the seven streams.
 
How many feathers are needed
To balance a bone on the scales?
The bare bone of hope and despair,
Why follow those poor misguided fools
Who cast their nets in stagnant pools?
And never a fish find there.
 
How many leaves of the sycamore
Does the wind count at dusk
Before he settles to sleep,
Is it better by times not to have the words
To say what would wound
And kindly counsel keep.
 
A blind man sees well enough in slumber
Silence conveys better meaning
To those who know the secret signs.
The wasteful unimportance of life
A wounded creature among the complete
Great oak strangled by serpentine vines.
 
Are the moon and oceans Siamese twins
And the land and sea blood brothers
Do wild geese fly in blue formation?
Is the crusader welcome home?
Might wars end if men refused to fight?
Would we join this conversation? 

Will a clock survive on just a tick?

Is forgetting and not wanting
To remember one and the same,
Is life a matter of inconvenience?
Like boiling eggs in a barrel
Or merely a pointless foolish game.