The Boy Who Knew
Three fish swim our streams, of knowledge, visions, and dreams.
With rainbow scales and basalt eyes, knowing everything under the blue skies.
One remains, and one died, but one was lost by a man who tried,
To taste their meat and learn, as he left it on a spit to burn.
As the man was gone, his page sat by; a boy told not to touch the fry.
But the fish seared, a blister bubbled. The boy grew concerned and troubled.
If he did not act, the meal would burst. A waste of a caught salmon, especially the first.
So he pushed down on his thumb, to ease the swelling by some.
But low and behold, the blister popped; scalding with pain that wouldn’t be stopped.
The boy sucked his thumb, as a baby would do. In a flash it was everything he knew.
How birds call, why the flames dance; how the stars move, how to win games of chance.
His master returned, needing no fish, to see it was the boy who had gained his wish.
He was enraged, but what was to be done. There was no punishment for a noble’s son.
The boy was destined to lead and rule, to become the great Fionn Mac Cumhaill.
#HI
