What if the boundaries between our world and the mystical were more fluid than we ever imagined? Join us as we journey with "The Death of Saint Brendan" by JRR Tokien, sailing alongside St Brendan through spellbinding seas toward the verdant lands of Galway. Through vivid storytelling, we unravel St Brendan's mesmerizing encounters with elusive elven kind and his awe-inspiring discovery of the Tower of Doom. Prepare yourself for an exploration of the profound symbolism within his quest, as he reflects on the cloud, tree, and star that linger in his mind—a poignant trinity of memories that encapsulate the spirit of his voyage.

Our narrator, John Lee, captures the enchanting and introspective nature of St Brendan's odyssey, transporting you to a realm where time stands still and the quest for a land beyond becomes an existential pursuit. Whether you're captivated by myth and legend or simply curious about the intricacies of a legendary voyage, this episode promises to leave you pondering the eternal questions of discovery and the soul's journey beyond the confines of the known. Listen in to uncover the spiritual depth of St Brendan's adventure and find yourself lost in the ethereal landscapes and timeless questions his journey invokes.

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The Death of Saint Brendan
by J.R.R. Tolkien

At last out of the deep seas he passed,
and mist rolled on the shore;
under clouded moon the waves were loud,
as the laden ship him bore
to Ireland, back to wood and mire,
to the tower tall and grey,
where the knell of Cluian-ferta’s bell
tolled in the green Galway.
Where Shannon down to Lough Derg ran
under a rainclad sky
Saint Brendan came to his journey’s end
to await his hour to die.

‘O! tell me, father, for I loved you well,
if still you have words for me,
of things strange in the remembering
in the long and lonely sea,
of islands by deep spells beguiled
where dwell the Elven-kind:
in seven long years the road to Heaven
or the Living Land did you find?’

‘The things I have seen, the many things,
have long now faded far;
only three come clear now back to me:
a Cloud, a Tree, a Star.
We sailed for a year and a day and hailed
no field nor coast of mean;
no boat nor bird saw we ever afloat
for forty days and ten.
We saw no sun at set or dawn,
but a dun cloud lay ahead,
and a drumming there was like thunder coming
and a gleam of fiery red.

Upreared from sea to cloud then sheer
a shoreless mountain stood;
its sides were black from the sullen tide
to the red lining of its hood.
No cloak of cloud, no lowering smoke,
no looming storm of thunder
in the world of men saw I ever unfurled
like the pall that we passed under.
We turned away, and we left astern
the rumbling and the gloom;
then the smoking cloud asunder broke,
and we saw the Tower of Doom:
in its ashen head was a crown of red,
where the fishes flamed and fell.
Tall as a column in High Heaven’s hall,
its feet were deep as Hell;
grounded in chasms the water drowned
and buried long ago,
it stands, I ween, in forgotten lands
where the kings of kings lie low.

We sailed then on, till the wind had failed,
and we toiled then with the oar,
and hunger an thirst us sorely wrung,
and we sang our psalms no more.
A land at last with a silver strand
at the end of strenght we found;
the waves were singing in pillared caves
and pearls lay on the ground;
and steep the shores went upward leaping
to slopes of green and gold,
and a stream out of rich and teeming
through a coomb of shadow rolled.

Thank you for journeying w/ the Saints with us!