“A poet is a nightingale who sits in darkness, and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds; his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why”. May we never know how highly perched above us the nightingale nests, nor in what tenebrous darkness the sweet poet sings. Suffice it for us, for now, simply to be moved by the intimacy of their music, and to warm ourselves in the embrace of their undetectable touch.
What is Finneran's Wake?
News, politics, history, poetry, philosophy, literature, life: A little university in the palm of your hand, an eloquent voice between your ears! Intended neither to inflame, nor to polarize, but to pursue truth. What end could be greater? Sapere Aude, my friends! Dare to think. Dare to seek. Dare to know.