(Something I forgot to put in.)
I can see the Priestess's burning hair in the purple-black night as she tells of her visions & asks me to partake of yet more mead, singing me songs, like a character in the songs I listen to/stories I make up. I see her not. I see her not!
This is how the mortals of legend who were taken to Fairyland must have felt . I wanted to dance w/ them; I've eaten of their hog roast & drank of their mead; little wonder I yearn to return to it.
As yon steely-eyed band of minstrels warned me, "dance the Dark Morris, you may never dance back......"
My Consort holds no interest – he does not know I've occasionally walked 2 paths – but he must know there's something different; I am too quiet.....