The Fae

These things the Fae would like you to remember:
Your world is very big beside our own.
We are ashes crushed from cinders, one last ember
Left to smoulder through the Winter all alone;
The tower in the rowan-grove is leaning;
The tunnels from the blasted oak run under
The new estate, its solemn children dreaming
Of the slow descent of ravens like a wonder:
But we may not yet survive the next December.

These things the fae would like you to remember:
That straying from the path is never wise;
The beasts out there don’t care who they dismember;
Our night, as yours, contains a thousand eyes;
That wisdom is a salve against adventure;
That the knight who rings the bell at set of sun
Knows a whispered spell to save you from indenture;
That dismemberment can sometimes be undone;
That the dragon leaves the tapestry at midnight;
Pull the red thread, not the green, behind her tail;
That the ravelled thread will vanish in the sunlight;
That the witch has only smoke behind her veil:
Tonight the hunt will have another member.

These things the Fae would like you to remember:
The fruit is bittersweet and tastes of freedom
From those things you do not want to set you free;
Some say it is a trap, and you should heed them,
But some find though it a self they need to be;
That there is no riddle here without a catch,
No power so strong you cannot still entreat it;
That the tower’s wicket-gate is on the latch;
And if you do not want the fruit, don’t eat it;
That our time in sparkling runnels and in torrents
And in floods and gyres and mournful doldrums flows;
It will loose you from your hours’ weary warrents;
It will teach you things that every forest knows:
As distant from Midsummer as September.

These things the Fae would like you to remember:
That gold without its glamour is just metal;
That you have bled and burned from iron too;
That beneath the hemlock-umbel and the nettle
Is the earth that claims us all as well as you:
The gentle earth of May knows no November.
These things the Fae would like you to remember.

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