Spirits of the mist…

Mist

The spirits of the mist rise up,

Weaving through the gossamer of time,

Guardians of the forest hold their secrets,

Known only to fay and woodland folk,

Their voices whisper on the breeze,

As gentle as a feather floating to the ground,

The four-quarter elements slowly awaken,

And stand ready to serve when called,

The magic combines with the slip of time,

To change those that enter forever,

A feeling, a thought a new desire,

A sense of wellbeing, belonging and love.

 

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