So far away,
yet held so close.
I know they call to me,
wishing me back,
back into their arms
Back upon the throne,
made of oak,
cushioned with ever-living leaves.
With me I still carry their gift,
never will I forget,
never will I shun,
ever will I be part of,
The Court of the Fae.

Their chld they made me.
Their King bequeathed to me
the gift I cherish at home.
To dance again in their circle,
to hear again their music,
to be carried away.
A world within our own,
apart from everything we know,
something that I dream of.

The music of dancing waters,
the caress of fresh air,
lifting up my senses,
ever enlightening my mind.
Like warmth in the chilly night,
sight after being so long blind,
the painful sweetnmess of knowing,
and never being able to have,
for I was not born of them.

A King born after his time,
and yet before he should be.
Once in the past,
and again in the future.
Not in this time.
The circle, the triangle,
and the eight pointed star;
His banners and symbols,
to which he can place no meaning,
and yet holds dear.

How he yearns to be,
part of the fae, blood family,
instead of an accepted outsider.
His time is over,
and will come again,
when he leaves behind
his own world,
experiencing rebirth
into the arms of the Fae.

::December 1, 2002 07:54 PM

.........................................................................