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

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.