Wet
Emerald green velvet
where wood nymphs whisper
Guardians of a sylvan secret
these creatures of light
they glow as fireflies in the night
welcome the Muses in their flight
from a world gone mad
Spirit away these gentle Wraiths
to the quiet sanctum within
they chant their woeful hymn
and weep silver tears to kiss the soil
They are the lost and abandoned Foil
to ears that hear yet no longer listen
Their Gifts unappreciated
desensitized and vacant
no attachment to the Ancient
a quiet exit
Exile
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