(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.