Moira swayed, eyes closed and hands reaching toward the sky.
“Oh, Mother Ireland, I love ye”, she keened; “I love ye, but I must leave ye. Tis time, tis time. Tis time for Moira to make her way into the Promised Land of America’s green shores.”
Keevan O’Donaugh watched as tears streamed down Moira’s upturned cheeks, wondering at the ecstasy rocking her in time.
“Moira, me darling. Can you hear me? Come out of this vision and come back to poor Keevan’s arms where you belong.”
Moira started, then shuddered as if to shake off the remains of the dream.
“Ah, Keevan, love. I’m here. I’m here. But I cannot stay. America is callin’ me. Do come with me, do.”
Ecstasy . . . that state of being that Trifecta’s editors asked us to fall into this week.