Moonbeam-caressed Elven faces, the most noble of races,
Clad in grey and silver, spellbound I am a humble follower,
Voices that are musical salver, proud to be an evangelical believer,
Honour these cherished spaces! their protective carapaces.
We humans may scale the heights of Mount Erudite,
Firmly fixing the banner of lore and learning,
But we lack wisdom for all our striving,
Only Elves possess this, the true intelligence, their birth-right
Salvation lies in the power of our Elven blood,
The tiniest drop can help reclaim our lost innocence,
We must strive and strive, no time for dalliance,
Time to purge our hearts, cast aside our cynical hood!
Their purity is our forgotten childhood,
Swept aside by our brutish spirit, ****** and colonial,
True happiness is not measured in the material,
Believe in the healing air of their sainted greenwood!
Decay is afoot in this blessed wood, ignorance of what is good,
Malice has many a shape, hides even in a benign landscape,
Once bitten there is no escape, snared by death’s drape,
Fear of the misunderstood, jealously of nature’s brotherhood.
Sadly, the visible world is full of deceit,
Forsake not the Elves! take that spiritual window-seat!
© Robert Porteus
Started out as something else. Not sure how it became this poem!
