Castles of mist in a garland of heather;
Stars dance against a bleak sky.
Shadows and moonlight…
The air like a feather…
Slowly a tear fills your eye.
Whisper a name only ancients will know.
Hold the shard tight in your hand.
A ring and a candle,
A book and a blade,
Live a game not of this land.
Captain your ship and don't seek the horizon.
Mend your torn sails—Find your own way.
Now say, "Goodbye,"
A heart is the prize won;
And so will begin this joyous new day.
Created: Sunday, 19 October 1997, 8:00pm
Last Updated: Sunday, 19 October 1997, 8:00pm
Page Contents © 1997 by: Gael MacGregor (UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED)
THIS PAGE was Sorta CREATED WITH:
HTML Writer by Kris Nosack *and* used information, tips & silliness in:
The Complete Idiot's Guide to Creating an HTML Web Page (Second Edition)
