(In Celtic myth and legend, The twilight hours are those that belong to the Fairy realms, Where mortals can be taken into the twilight realms of the Sidhes, A place that time stands still, the moment hushes and the soul lingers to the nightly feasts of the eternal. I suppose I take this to apply to our dream world as much as to a factual realm.)



She hovers upon the wings of night
casts her drift of the fairy tunes
that creep like the fine mists of time
Engulfs the land, inhabits the realms
where thoughts so gather, flood and flow
Covering the world into her fine blanket
To drift us all to the world of dreams.

It is here that all possibilities arise
takes flight upon the fancy cries
Hovers lightly upon perpetual forms
and lingers in the thick flowered groves
In this world where the fairies dance
to the old jigs and airs
Swirl the embrace of their twilight realms
Between the mantel of the universe.

It is here upon their midnight embrace
that the ancient Gods arise and cry
their archaic forms stretch forth
Grasping hold of man's internal cries
They summon the strings of the ancient web
whereby all creation stems and flows
Illuminating us to their ways ever afresh
And placing deep within the will, the form.

Oh! How we arise to the Dawns sweet call
relishing to the finial vestige of the night
We wish to return to that realm of no pain
where sorrow and fears all subside
to the pleasure of the sidhe's ways
where life holds its true embrace
and love wings its fluttered call
and draws fast the human soul
into the desired length of passion's night.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph