Blind to even the reflection of glass, you say.
I can see through those endless lies,
Boundless directionless, those compass eyes that speak for you when your soul can't listen and your intuition's clouded with indecision-
Where the haze is a result of your own illusions and remarkable ability to forget your judgment while rationale itself is laughing at your persistence.
I wish I was as blind as you are.
Maybe I can stop being bound to the reality that pains me through the mist.
It doesn't change that I know where the pointer's pointing in those mystified pupils.
Let me be your eyes until you realize that maybe we're meant to be headed in the same direction through the clouds.
But so fogged is the glass of the mirror;
I'm stuck in my own fallacy.

In a quiet mist is our heaven at dusk
and just beyond, a castle where you live
To ease my empty heart I will float just past
every cloud to try and see you just once more.
Your gentle words, though gone, aid my sleep.
In my dreams is the stronghold of a wild forest
I reach out to touch each branch with weary hand,
So the trees may know I, too, feel immoderately old.

Deep in the meadow, long long ago,
I saw in a circle, a bright ring of snow.
Not snow, but the fairest, faeries they were.
Their hair light and long, with grace it would flow.
Their hair shone jet black, then a shimmering white.
It changed with the wind, and it changed with their fright.
Thirteen were dancing, their faces aglow.
They swept in a ring, round silver and light,
A song filled the air, like mist in the night.
And as I watched, the high moon slowly grew full,
They sang to their Mother, the moon did hold high.
Their sisters, the stars, twinkling burned through the sky.
Then, with a hum, their Mother did show.
The silver and light, it murmured and shook.
It took shape of a maiden, her beauty unreal.
She said to them, "Children, daughters divine,
You were born to me, and you are mine."
Then she summoned her king, the sun did appear,
Not in the sky, but there, in the clear.
The meadow was bright, suddenly filled with a radiant rain.
The sire hath come, the king of the day.
"They brothers, I summon" His voice had called out through the mist.
Owls and hawks and eagles did fly,
They changed in to men, handsome and tall.
The Faye and the birds bowed down all at once,
And sang a song of frost and snow.
The winter then came, the field filled with chill.
Then they all stood and started to dance,
With elegance and pride, they moved in a trance.
With that, the snow, it started to fall.
But this snow, it was different, unnaturally bright,
They were the stars, the sisters that once burned through the night.
They changed into women, shining and small,
They fluttered about and sang with them all.
And, thought why, I do not know,
I started to cry, and my teardrops did glow.
They suddenly turned and looked at my face,
They told me to come, to take my place.
Through the fog, I started to walk,
To the circle, to the meet.
The youngest daughter, the prettiest one,
Came to me, and started to hum.
She touched my mind, my soul and my heart.
Then she kissed me and said, "Now you're one with us."
Then she kissed me once more and I turned to a hawk,
I flew through the night, and flew through the hush.
And thus to this day,
I remain one with the Faye.

In the echoing sadness around me
voids grow wider
deflating more hearts
less hopeful, by the second

it's not the life I dreamt of
in the blackness of my childhood nights
the future glimmering before me - I was sure
a shining thing;

I could only imagine vibrant beauty,
abundance
possibilities for stunning joy
but

there are things outlined in the mist
vast and terrible
not foreseen
my innocent thoughts danced elsewhere

the only things I hoped for
have been stomped
to dust
by the villainous reality

Remember the days long ago, long ago?
     Remember, remember, think your thoughts through.

Imagine the days in the bright golden sun.
     Let yourself drift to those days far away.

Envision the grass, green and lush through the trees.
     Those days call you back to the land by the sea.

The flowers bright in bloom, their scents fill the air.
     That smell, oh so sweet, oh so soft it may stay,
     till the wind and the cold carried it far away.

Come winter, come snow,
     though your heart does not break.

Through the wind, through the white,
     sometime within the night,
    
the green fights on through,
     and it calls back to you.

Dream the dreams that find their way through,
     Live in their mist until you awake
     and find what you missed.

Beating wings fanning flames,
     the fires of Hell erupt from pain.
Broken mind, forgotten heart,
     where there's an end, there is no start.
Ragged dress, bloody cloak,
     the voice of Chaos, it hath spoke.
Deep and drawn, the day is dark,
     the Hounds of Hell, they spit and bark.
Towers tall, caverns deep.
     with closed eyes, They take those who sleep.
The underworld is not a hell,
     but home to fright and fire spells.
Demons trick and spirits twist,
     breathing out a poisonous mist.
When passed through the River Styx,
     that's where the dying screams will mix.
Rings of Hell, there are nine,
     their horrors spread chills down thy spine.
When ye pass, yer finally free,
     the Way Station's expecting ye.
A resting point, sit and wait,
     the Ice may be yer final Fate.
Beyond towers, looming high,
     there is an icy, flaming sky.
Niflheim is frozen still,
     forever stopped, ever in chill.

My friend is like the ocean,
vast and deep and rare.
Words curl around to frame her face,
like fair and care and share.

Her face is like the setting sun,
all peach and plum and gold.
Her heart is like a rose in bloom,
just waiting to unfold.

My friend is like the start of spring,
new and bright and fun.
She bounces 'round, full of love,
to share with everyone.

Her tears are clear and pure,
like liquid ice or mist.
Could she be so perfect?
Does my friend even exist?