faery warriors slain, faery queens drained of life cannot save. outlandish though it seem, it was all but a dream. live i must for when it’s done – it’s done.
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i will not lie down with brutish stone whispering in ominous tones yet incapable of tearing away the creeping vine that seeks to render it mute & dearth of life.
the lint in my pocket, the dirt in my shoe screams that I live. i gather the lint for story telling to learn and to give.
i will live as this life is all there is. no faeries exist. the magic is us and lives in us. we are the maidens and the guards, the trolls and the gnomes. the other place takes not gives.
no hereafter, i must live. my own almighty i must be. my fort is me.
we hallow the hollow and taboo the trite.
we must live and venture with all our might.