I have written at length of alternate universes and the infinity of infinite universes, but the closest of these are the universes next door, where ancient people who have shared the same stars and sun as we, have lived their lives, spoken their languages and practiced their religions, then disappeared, leaving only vague rumors and perhaps a drawer of grave goods in a museum to attest to their existence. But not all have disappeared without a trace, for there are some next door universes we have the knowing of. Such a universe is the universe of the Celts, a haunted people, who have left us ethereally haunting songs and beautiful raven haired maidens to sing them.

The children say at dusk in woodlands near
Is heard the sound of singing soft and clear
And dimly seen are maids of raven hair
All radiant of youth and beauty fair
The children say at times throughout the night
There dance the faeries under faerie light
And ghostly figures walk among the trees
As Eochaid Ollathair takes his ease
We do not know just how they may have felt
We know not what defined the ancient Celt
He was a warrior, artist, poet too
And fought with naked body painted blue
Tiberius had thrust them out of Gaul
And Claudius had pushed them to the wall
They found the fields of Ireland free of snow
And vowed this was as far as they would go
The land was green, as green as green could be
And there their ghosts still walk the valleys free
And to this day at dusk in woodlands near
Is heard the sound of singing, soft and clear
And seen are ghostly maids of raven hair
All radiant of youth and beauty fair