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Earthwizard's Realms of Faërie

November, 08, 2004

Earthwizard's Realms of Faërie: The Poetry of Dwareniel Moone

		The Muse
	She walks in beauty,
	Her steps leaving a trail of desire
	In her wake.
	The touch of the Divine
	Rests on her fingertips,
	Slender as willow branches,
	That twine through my hair
	As I lie in the lap
	Of her wonder.
	Her whisper is the harp's breath,
	Soft in my ear,
	Speaking the mysteries of inspiration
	To my soul.
	Her eyes are the doorways to
	The Other Realms,
	Those places lost in time,
	Inhabited by the ancestors
	Of forgotten lore.
	She lazes by a Grecian pool,
	Gazing upon her own reflection,
	Naive to the enchantment
	That surrounds her.
	Within her soul lies
	The secrets of ancient gods,
	Her heart writes the histories
	Of Man in blood.
	Yet all her thoughts are pure,
	Neither evil or good,
	For they are the essence
	Of Spirit.
	Always at the corner of my eye,
	She is the glimmer of hope
	Reflected in the hearts
	Of innocent babes,
	And the glint of sword
	Clutched in the conquering
	Hero's hand.
	She weaves her magick
	About me and I cease to exist,
	Lost between the threads
	Of her mind's tapestry.
	She is the bright flame
	Of inspiration
	And I am the moth,
	Forever seeking the favor
	Of the Muse.

		~ Moone
	  	© 2004

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