Glory to He who holds the keys to Anthropocene’s redemption, Crìost the first born of all Creation, the light of humankind, in Him is life.
He who was, who is and is to come, who is in the midst of God’s Throne broods over a plague of unleashed hubris, Creation undone by human desire.
Creation’s breath wanes. Barren souls batter Eden’s gates, defy our Creator’s throne and grace, chimeric dreams and callous hands cultivate welter and waste.
An Gèadh Fiadhaich flies over the Earth, a rainbow arched over Her head, She calls; “Saints travail. -Speak, Solas Chrìost. Let your incense rise to Heaven’s Throne,”
Out of every tribe, language, people and nation, pilgrims travail with An Gèadh Fiadhaich, voyage to restore Heaven’s way on Earth with patient endurance and faith of saints.
