From Whence the Stories Came. (New Poem)
Hope all you amazing Rioters are doing well. I know...I know... My role as Chief Rioter and Grand High Mugwump might be called into question, given that my work schedule recently has kept me on the road and away from the interwebs between 10-15 hours per day for the last few weeks.
Sorry.
I'm compiling some short stories, and I wanted a fun little introduction. A story to tell the reader where fairy tales - or, at least, my fairy tales - come from. Naturally, my story wasn't a story. It was a poem.
Hope you enjoy it! Maybe it would make a nice addition to your own Book of Shadows or book of stories.
Love and Lyte,
Fire Lyte
Sorry.
I'm compiling some short stories, and I wanted a fun little introduction. A story to tell the reader where fairy tales - or, at least, my fairy tales - come from. Naturally, my story wasn't a story. It was a poem.
Hope you enjoy it! Maybe it would make a nice addition to your own Book of Shadows or book of stories.
Love and Lyte,
Fire Lyte
From whence the stories came.
Somebody
left the gate open,
the
one behind the garden,
looking
out into the wood beyond.
Dangerous,
this was, because if you do not
close
your garden gate,
all
manner of being might get in.
Surely,
they did.
Amidst
the lavender and mint,
and
twisted rose bushes,
during
the times ‘twixt and ‘tween,
I
saw them.
They’re
curious little creatures,
all
shapes and sizes,
and
they dance with wild abandon,
as
though they knew I was watching,
wishing
to join.
After
a time, they beckoned outright,
and
I answered their call.
And
in a time ‘twixt or ‘tween,
I
daresay I cannot remember which,
I
danced with them -
the
folk that came from the woods -
and
for a time I believe I knew the secrets of the wood,
of
flying low over a forest top while the moon
sang
me lullabies.
During
that time I was told a great many stories,
each
more fantastic than the next,
and
I knew each one to be the absolute truth,
for
as tricky as they can be, the folk from the wood can never lie.
Eventually,
somebody closed the gate behind the garden,
and
there was no more dancing for me in times
‘twixt
or ‘tween.
Their
stories I wrote down with fervor, however,
so
that others might learn to dance with wild abandon,
and
journey into the wood.
Love it. I feel like this belongs in the musical Into the Woods for some reason. :P
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