The Veil
A shimmer near the forest’s trim,
A flit beneath the moonlight’s rim—
The Veil, they say, is silver-thin
Where mortal worlds and dreams begin.
It clings to stone when sunlight fades,
It drapes the hills in drifting shades,
And through its folds, the stars are strange—
Time bends, and boundaries rearrange.
By Elvin fire or Fae Wisps breath,
When life leans close to dream and death,
The Veil grows thin, the pathways clear—
And faerie voices touch the ear.
The soundless step, the mirror’s gaze—
A threshold veiled in shifting haze.
To some it sings, to others, blinds,
It hides the courts where no one minds—
The laws of time or mortal care—
When grief and angst lay fate threads bare.
For once you glimpse what lies behind,
You’ll never return same of mind.
WoPoLi 
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