Thomas Francis (Pat) Meaney. This one's for you, Pop.
... And for Mum, Maimie Meaney, nee Dullaghan, who keeps on trucking'.
Flicker. Blindspin. Darkplunge.
They cleaved the sky with the strength of collective purpose, then split apart and flew away in all directions, like freedoms promise bourne on crystal winds, leaving yesterday's dreams scattered across the trial of time: waiting, wanting, to be dreamed again, on the day when love connects us all and those that are gone will sing again, and our tears will be of laughter, not grief.