The night grows still
The ancient bower listens
For their music to fill
The waning night as the dawn glistens

The pipes are heard, distant and true
The haunting strains of the harp hum

The one that hear this melody is for from blue
As it calls out for you to reach forth and come

To join the friviolity and throw caution to the wind
For that is needed by mortals, the ones short lived
Here you can play and follow every indulgence
For your humanity is lost, freely given

To have a chance to partake of fantasy
Where trees, birds, and beasts can talk
Where magic creates pure ecstasy
from your will, your movement, your simple thoughts

A hidden world, that only a few are invited to see
Sharing the trusts, exposing the secrets forbidden
Doing so will cause havoc in both realities
So one must be mindful of every promise given

So not to forsake the magics, and secrets
Of this land doth called Ere
And isle that holds the last of eons of promises
In its elegant dress of such care.

For the fae to run, play and be free
WE need to honor the traditions
So mote it be
For every tree, creature and being.