Saturday, July 30, 2005


July 17, 2005

Fades the day to fairy night,
grows the dark from deep twilight which,
dawn or dusk, bears semblance of remains
of life and love and solitary days.

Twinkles fire of fairies bright,
fades the western pale of light;
tales of love may yet unfold
as patience waits through trials untold.

Fields of green transform to citrine blaze,
as fairies dance in wild romance
and fancies of the mind,
leaving mundane thoughts behind,
seeking not to grieve nor to repine.

Let me dance with fairies,
in the fields of citrine night,
under skies of diamonds bright,
with clover in my hair, honey on the breeze,
breasts bared to the deepening dark,
until I too am free and laughing fiercely
at the thundering sky.

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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