What is it I'm reaching for,
This thing I cannot touch?
Is it a word, a truth, or a question;
Perhaps a riddle or rhyme?
Is it a wondrous treasure
Or is it nothing much?
Will I learn its essence in time?

I seek for this thing
Though I don't know what it might be.
I spend my time searching
For that one missing piece.
Perhaps, one day, it will come to me
And bring with it a quiet peace.

The morning finds the young lasses milking
And the young lads in the fields cutting
Rams, ewes, and lambs eat and grow fat.
The hens lay eggs while the roosters are strutting.

The sun rises up for his daily walk,
Drawing the day across the sky.
He takes his daylight with him to another place
Because the moon's time is nigh.

Evening falls across the heather
And the stars come out to dance.
The faerie folk come to life
And fill the night with their lyrical chants.

The mists on the moors swirl and caper about,
Taking rock and tree to embrace.
The faerie folk make merry and dance about
'Neath the silver of the moon's face.


They dance to music as old as time,
Melodies and rhythms from long ago.
Verses sung in ages long past,
Songs only faerie folk know.


They sing and dance under the moon and stars,
As long as the night covers them about.
But the moon and the faerie folk must go their ways
For 'tis time for the sun to come out.