The Lights Of Faerie

The dawn that lights again a new day’s hope,
Bright rays of sunlight cutting through the gloom,
A rosy sunset comforting the heart,
Or moonlight laying down its silver bloom;

The glory of a billion stars that shine
Amid the swirling clouds of fiery dust,
The galaxies that dance their slow pavane,
A dying star’s last life-creating burst;

The candle that says grace over a meal,
Soft lights that glow through curtains down the street,
The leaping golden flames upon the hearth,
The light of love in eyes that fondly meet;

These are the lights of Faerie to my eyes,
Not twinkling gems or pots of cold, hard gold.
No magic from a wand could warm my heart
Like these, surrounding us from days of old.


Comments

The Lights Of Faerie — 3 Comments

  1. I’ve finally found a way to make the lines sit on the page properly. I hope this will now be easier to read.

  2. that’s beautifully described! It makes me think about how JRR Tolkien touched upon the relationship between the primary and secondary creation in “Mythopoeia”:

    He sees no stars who does not see them first
    of living silver made that sudden burst
    to flame like flowers beneath the ancient song,
    whose very echo after-music long
    has since pursued. There is no firmament,
    only a void, unless a jewelled tent
    myth-woven and elf-patterned; and no earth,
    unless the mother’s womb whence all have birth.

    – at the same time it is immediately and strikingly clear, but so very difficult (if not impossible) to catch in words.

    • Perhaps it’s because light is so important, and so difficult to catch in words, that I have several poems about different kinds of light. It draws me – as it probably does everyone.

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