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Journal To my Leannán Sídhe

A record of a users' progress or achievements in their particular practice.
Lucien6493

Lucien6493

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There is a place I know, found on no map of the Americas, where silent cataracts descend in mist beyond the edges of the world. Bejeweled serpents hold discourse there with scarlet macaws in orchid encircled pavilions of white marble and gold. The warm, moist air is scented with cedar and roses and the coffee they serve is sublime. All manner of beings congregate there and it is easy to glean a fragment of wisdom from a passing manticore. I have only gone there in waking dreams, at such times as I found it necessary to take leave of myself, though one day I will return for the last time, and the one who fills me now with sadness and deep longing will seal our troth with the honeyed kiss of the yew's cold fire.
 
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