Whatever our spiritual outlook or even our belief
We've thought of them as mythical, certainly not real
The truth is, that we've lived in a world more surreal
The madness of this existence follows each of us
As beings made of clay, we'll one day turn back to dust
Each moment passes like sand through fingers
Gray realms exist, the land of eternal youth summer
No dying, ever youthful, no longer winter
In those realms the faeries dwell, ever dancing
Giving us hope, dreams of a world everlasting
The future is an unknown, if hopeful ideal
The destination has been unpromised
Being alive is our sole guarantee
Not of paradise, but of existence
Eternity offers more than any human ideal
It is perfect, the highest goal, a dreamland
For most, Heaven, for all it is solace
“Fairies in Ireland are sometimes as big as we are,
sometimes bigger, and sometimes, as I have been
told, about three feet high.” William Butler Yeats
