Softly, children, what would Sluagh think?
Those silent shade-people of Slavic lands
Who moved with spider's mystery,
Stealing bad children from their beds?
The nighttime is a special time
Of secret things and special beginnings,
When the night enfolds you in her cloak
To find the dream paths seldom trod.
Oh, children, do not shake our house
Running like knights through castle halls;
Horses do not charge through kitchens
No matter who is king!
The nighttime is a special time
Of the sound between Nature's breaths,
Of the bonds 'twixt Earth and Underhill,
Of foot-drums, and of silver wine.
Ah my children, ah my children.
I know better than to command the wind.
You pretend you are being secret,
and I'll pretend you are being quiet.
For I know well that in your own time
You will find and keep your mysteries,
And those few you choose to share with me
Shall make me ache with wonder.
--Coyote.
(Dragon-and-faery pic by Randal Spangler, (c) him in all respects; Nevermore is courtesy of gotireland.com - I don't know who took or created that beautiful picture but they might. All rights reserved by those who rightfully reserve them.)
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