Good day my dearest friends and followers. For today's posting I have a poem based on Elven lore. A fictitious poem you may say, but is it really? Take a few minutes to read and draw your own conclusion. Have a great day
Progress?
Once there was a peaceful people
who together with mighty nature lived,
spoiling little of the virgin wilderness.
Their homes, comfortable and warm,
were carved out of the living trees;
their cities, hidden there within,
Invisible to the stranger's eye.
Through the forest they traveled,
like a mist over the water at sunrise.
Without a trace they went on their way,
Peaceful and gentle people they were.
Speak of these people, ancient and wise,
It is of the Elves that you would be talking;
The caretakers of natural in their world.
They have no need or want for anything,
but today a war cry from the Elves is heard.
Listen to their trumpets as they blow!
Hear these noble people as they fight
to keep the land from which they will not go.
The invaders are brute and wastrels with nature;
not overly smart but not innately dull.
They smash the forest and all before them
with axes and saws and chains and plows!
The trees shuddered at their inexorable advance.
It is humanity, armed with technology,
driven by greed that comes!
Greedy to call theirs that which never was.
Within the forested ramparts the Elves are mustered,
Their soldiers with spears and horsemen with swords.
The shrill of the trumpet splits the air;
“Be at the ready, ye stout of our land!”
Their echo is heard from others all around,
A war's songs all will hear and never forget.
For their days of freedom have come to an end.
The battle is met with the clashing of steel;
the brutes have won; the city is razed.
Pain and grief and Elfin sorrow,
tears and mourning for the fallen ones
who valiantly fought for their tomorrow,
Which now will never be.
The Elves now condemned to forever roam
and to never make a place their home
save but for a year or two.
Still of themselves they selflessly give.
Now they wander in the place between worlds.
Sing, sing, Elfin people, in the forest that's dying!
Sing your own lament!
The Elves control the wind;
their hands guide the gales and tempests,
their flickering eyes, the breezes.
The Elfin wizards teach their students
the magic of the elements of nature.
A new day dawns.
Composed by Cynthia
©✿ڰۣ❤ In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady✿ڰۣ❤
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