There’s a path, somewhere – out there – that leads away from the land we’re accustomed to.
To some, it leads to a new job, or school.
For others, it’s a previously unknown book by a beloved author, or perhaps discovering new music.
But the way is clear.
And, it appears, it’s only you who recognize it for what it is.
Others may go with you, but they won’t see it.
A barely discernible track in the wilderness.
A footpath, leading onward, and upward…
The road into the Land of Fairy.
Perhaps, if you’re looking for it with the purest of intentions, it may reveal itself.
But do not look for it where you’d expect it to be.
If you think it’s in the woods behind your house, or down the street… well, you might be right.
Though it’s just as likely to be around the corner, or through a hole in an embankment – or maybe just before the 83/94ths mark of that new, particularly glorious piece of music.
Sometimes you can see that upward direction in a painting, or a poem.
How blessed are the artists so gifted with that sight.
How highly esteemed must they be, to be allowed to represent what all of us have yearned for, at one point or another in our lives.
Sometimes the trail can be spied in the most blighted of settings.
Do not be deceived by this.
It’s a shrewd tactic on the part of the Folk, thereby making it all the more probable you’ll go with them.
If only to escape the ugliness we’ve made of our own realm.
Can you spot that alley leading into Fairy in the midst of a sprawling city?
Of course you can… but it’s more difficult to do so, because of the many distractions.
I don’t think you’ll ever spot that road within a shopping mall, but I’ll not assert this as fact.
I don’t profess to speak for the Folk… only about them.
The way is out there – every where and no where – yet everywhere real, and fleeting.
And all we’re ever given are the brief glances of one looking – not into, but through a book, as through a window.
Into a land rumored to be populated with joy and beauty, and a rest which cannot be found anywhere else.
The trail is out there, but its sentinels are exacting, and selective.
For if you’re chosen, you can only tread that path right after the end of night but just before the dawn – no matter what your watch might think of such a concept.
You must be vigilant – and ever ready with your first step.
If the Folk deign to show you their road, you must go quickly.
Now is not the time for hesitation.
Already, long ago and far away, you’ll have weighed the pros and cons, and come to a decision.
A decision which must stand firm, for all time, no matter how old you might grow.
For the Folk live outside our time-frame… and just because you’re no longer young doesn’t mean the opportunity no longer exists.
Yet you must decide, before the offer’s made, whether or not you’ll go.
Once the offer is made, it’s as likely as not to be withdrawn almost immediately.
The Folk do not take kindly to dilly-dallying.
Do not blame the Folk for being cruel, or uncaring – inhuman, in fact.
For, indeed, they aren’t human, and live by differing rules than you and I.
Do not complain, if the offer is removed before you can act.
If you haven’t made up your mind to go by now, then Fairy probably isn’t the place for you, after all.
Have you seen that furtive track?
There… a laughing dapple of light upon a leaf…
Can you see the light winking at you off of the water – reflecting towards any and all who will see, only those joyous impertinences it’s received from elsewhere?
Look… the shadows are dancing… doing a jig across the bed you’ve placed by a window…
If you’re prone towards dismissing such fancies, thinking them merely the wind-blown hints of something or the other you haven’t the energy or the time to contemplate, then the path has already passed you by.
I wish you would’ve come… with me.
But I go, whether or no you will.
Oh how I hope, against all hoping, that you might be given another chance.
Conceivably, one day, you might receive a second opportunity, and once more be shown the way onward, and upward.
Do you know that place, from which you can see the sun first striking the clouds of a morning?
That place where color first breaks upon the day?
That’s where I’ll be.
Waiting for you…