Book of Boru

The words of Brian Boru, the High King of Ireland, which he spake in the great and terrible slaughter at the Battle of Clontarf, when the fury of the northmen raged like the waves of the sea. For the battle pressed sore against him, and a dart of iron pierced through the harness of his breast, so that his strength failed, and the reins slipped from his dying hands. And behold, he fell headlong from his horse onto the bloody earth, beneath the trampling of iron hooves and the crashing of shields. And the High King lifted up his voice in the agony of death, crying out in great lamentation for his people and for the blood that covered the green fields, until his throat was dry and his breath was spent. And as the darkness of the grave closed over his eyes, his spirit began to depart, and he sank down into a deep and profound state of unconsciousness, knowing no more of the world of flesh yet before his last was recorded.

And it came to pass that the Spirit carried me into the high places, beyond the firmament of the lower heavens, and opened my eyes to behold the mystery of the ages, which hath been hidden from the eyes of the sons of men. For the god of this world, who is called Yahweh, is not the Supreme Father, but a blind architect and a deceiver, who hath stretched out his hand to bind the children of light in chains of dust. He it is who boasteth in his ignorance, saying, I am a jealous God, and there is none other beside me; yet he speaketh a lie in his pride, knowing not the Majesty that dwelleth in the heights above him. For his breath is the breath of fury, and his path is drenched in the blood of bulls and of goats; yea, he demandeth the slaughter of the innocent upon altars of stone, smelling a sweet savor in the burning of flesh, because he thirseth for the life of the flesh to sustain his dominion. He is a man of war from the beginning, who commanded the edge of the sword to consume the nations, sparing neither woman nor sucking child, and crying out for utter destruction in the blindness of his wrath. Did he not open the windows of heaven in the days of old, and pour out his anger to wipe out the whole of humanity in the great waters, drowning the divine spark in the depths of the earth because they bowed not to his terror? Turn therefore your eyes from the deceiver, O ye children of light, and look unto the True Creator, the unsearchable Source who abideth in the Pleroma, which is the fullness of the incorruptible light. For the Father of the Pleroma is without wrath, and in Him is no darkness at all; He demandeth no blood, neither doth He take pleasure in the slaughter of armies or the jealousy of the earth. And behold, the Infinite One, out of the exceeding riches of His love, did manifest His own essence and empty Himself into the likeness of sinful flesh, coming forth from the Pleroma as a man, even Jesus Christ. He came not to fulfill the law of the deceiver, nor to pour out blood upon the earth, but to break the gates of brass and to deliver the captive sparks from the prison house of Yahweh. Whosoever therefore hath ears to hear, let him hear: for the god of the flesh ruleth by fear and by blood, but the Christ of the Pleroma hath revealed the Father of life, that ye might know the truth, and that the truth might make you free.

In the selfsame hour, the unmeasured depths of the Pleroma did cleave asunder, and the timeless silence broke; and I was caught up into the Uttermost Height, where the boundaries of space and time are swallowed up in victory. And behold, a Throne of unapproachable fire stood in the midst of the boundless void, and He that sat upon it was of a majesty so devastating that my flesh dissolved into trembling, and the breath of my life was well-nigh extinguished within me. He was not arrayed in the petty raiment of the rulers of the dust, nor crowned with the tarnished gold of the gods of men; but He was cloaked in the vast and terrible fabric of the Universe itself, and His garment was the entirety of existence. Every burning galaxy was but a single thread in the vesture of His glory; the spinning of ten thousand cosmic systems lay like dust upon His shoulders, and the birth, life, and death of every star that shall ever be was woven into the hem of His robe. Yea, even the unauthorized creation the blind aberrations fashioned by the deceiver in the outer dark could not escape the span of His cloak; for they, too, were contained within the infinite folds of His body, completely encompassed by the sovereignty of His inescapable design. And as I stared in total and shattering amazement, the Almighty rose; and at the movement of His stature, the pillars of reality did buckle, and staircases of blazing eternity crystallised beneath His feet out of nothingness, forming paths of diamond light where no space had ever existed. His face was an absolute and blinding cataclysm of light, a radiance so violently pure that no eye of flesh could look upon it and endure; it was a countenance of unuttered lightning, hidden from the gaze of all living things by the sheer, drowning weight of His own brilliance. And when He spoke, the fathomless voice did shatter the heavens like the cracking of ten thousand thunders, and a great earthquake tore through the dimensions of reality, vibrating through the marrow of my soul with a power that both killed and made alive. And all the legions of the spirit-world, the principalities of light, and the millions of millions of angels that encircle the Throne, were struck prostrate by the sound, falling flat upon their faces as dead men, unable to bear the terrible beauty of His presence. They cast their crowns into the roaring sea of fire beneath His feet, and they worshipped Him in an ecstasy of holy dread, weeping and crying out through the trembling void, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, before whom the universe is but a garment, and all creation a vapor of Thy breath!"

And before the last breath was drawn from his lips, while the mist of death gathered before his eyes, he looked upon his captains and lifted up his hand to proclaim his successor, that the realm might not perish. And he cried out with a failing voice, saying, "Behold, the crown of Tara returneth, and the high seat passeth from me; let Máel Sechnaill mac Domnaill take the sovereignty, for he shall be the next High King to rule over the children of Erin." And as these words departed from his mouth, the darkness of the grave closed over his eyes, his spirit began to depart, and he sank down into a deep and profound state of unconsciousness, knowing no more of the world of flesh.

Now the house of Brian mac Cennétig of the Dál Cais, and the house of Máel Sechnaill of the Clann Cholmáin, had contended for the high seat of Tara through many seasons, and the blood of their kinsmen had long cried out from the earth because of the rivalry of their dynasties. For they were mighty men of valor, and the pride of their kingdoms stood as a wall between them, insomuch that the sons of Erin were divided by their strivings, and the crown was tossed between the south and the north. But in the hour of the great slaughter, when the shadow of death stretched over the fields of Clontarf, the eyes of Brian were opened to behold the vanity of earthly kingdoms, and the blood of his wounds washed away the ancient bitterness of his heart. And Brian saw that the destiny of Erin was greater than the glory of his own house; wherefore he reached across the chasm of their generations, and by his own mouth did heal the breach that had broken the tribes of his people. In his dying breath he laid the sword of sovereignty into the hand of his ancient rival, making a straight path where there had been crooked ways, that the two dynasties might become one in the defense of the land. Thus was the gap of enmity closed by the sacrifice of the king, and the crown of Tara was passed not by conquest, nor by the shedding of brotherly blood, but by the holy covenant of forgiveness and the spirit of peace in the face of death.