“…little is known of the Fair Folk, although the old tales endure through all times. In the age of popular doubt and imminent technical progress the ancient superstitions survive and thrive, and it is not quite clear how and why. What is now called whimsical and fancy, once held sway over the minds and souls. We know so much, yet so little- and it grieves those who still travel the Hawthorn paths of the Fae…”
~Reverend Rhys Jones’s notebook, 1825
Be wary, mortals,
For you know less
Than a new born babe
That is trying to breathe.
Be wary, mortals,
For we’ve been here
Long before the times
Of your first born.
Be wary, mortals
In our woods,
For ours is green
Of the wild and true.
Be wary, mortals:
We still endure
In water’s depth
And the paths of yore.
Be wary, mortals:
Fair Folk lives on,
Unnoticed yet there,
As long before.
Be wary, mortals:
There comes a day
When we still live
And your kin is gone.
Be wary, mortals:
Stay indoors
On darkest nights
Of the brightest noons.
Be wary, mortals:
Do not intrude
When no one’s waiting
To welcome you.
Be wary, mortals,
Keep ye in mind:
Where there is lie,
There will be a fight.
Be wary, mortals:
The Fair Folk knows
The twists and turns
Of the lives and fates…
Into the Unknown 