My poetry.

Falling down in cavern deep,
I felt my mind drift off to sleep.
There I frolicked with the fae
who’d blink away a century
and conversed with them on life.

We talked and danced and laughed and played,
and over time my knowledge swayed
towards tantalizing mysteries
that those not walking through those leaves
have no hope to see.

Their lives were coated with magic sheen,
which held to me a wondrous gleam
that offered strength and protection
from the ravages of time.

Too quickly did I wake
from that painfully pleasant dream,
to find myself alone
with not even memory.

After a spell, sat up did I
and breathed out such a solemn sigh,
filled with the sadness of the weak
held in the terrifying grip of time.

With aching muscles and feet of lead
I left that cavern filled with dread,
that those who will too soon be dead
carry in their hearts.

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