The Prince of Night and Woodland Air

The Prince of Night
and Woodland Air
with heart so heavy
yet face so fair,
once came to me
when I was young,
just after set
of twilight sun.
He sang to me
the sweetest songs
of birds and stars
and goings-ons
in the wood
so far below,
where only fools
dared e’er to go.
He bid me come,
his smile so bright
it shamed the moon,
it felt so right.
And from my window
I was led
where earth meets sky.
And on a bed
of silver grass
laid we there,
in the night
and woodland air.
“This is my home,”
He said to me.
“Can’t you feel
in every tree
the freedom of
this unknown place,
the majesty
of untouched grace?”
I smiled at him,
all rosy cheeked,
and watched a fawn,
so quiet and meek,
come bounding by.
It made me smile.
“This all will die
in little while.”
I turned to him,
confused and scared,
and to my listening
ears he bared
the secret worries
he had grown
as he watched
from celestial throne.
“The earth does cry,”
He said to me.
“It’s in the quakes,
the air we breathe.
From water rushing
in from sea,
to every stump
and fallen tree.
This world we have
is not our own.”
And with that,
he took me home.
He led me to
my own soft bed,
then kissed the top
of my bowed head
and wiped the tears
that stung my eyes.
“My dear, nothing
may have to die.
Tell your friends
the things you know.
Share with them
what you’ve been shown.
With all your help,
perhaps someday
I’ll come again.
To you, I say,
the future is
within your hands.
Take this news
to distant lands.
Only you
can save my home.
Remember,
you are not alone.”
He disappeared
and left me there
with tear-stained eyes
and heart of care.
So went the night
he met me there,
the Prince of Night
and Woodland Air.

by cmandagrace

http://youngwritersproject.org/node/75735

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