The faery host are known when they want to be known.
Seen when they want to be seen.
If it’s not the time, it’s not the time.
When they come to call, you may be struck by the surprise of their sudden unveiling.
Taken aback by the subtle signs and whispers that have emerged.
You may glimpse the host on the move during dim twilight hours, when the human world has begun to sleep … for their world is the world of dreams.
In the olden days, some people knew it as Tír na nÓg, a haunting land of eternal youth.
Hear the voices of the host now.
Feel the stirrings of an archaic, forgotten tongue that was once known by the ancestors.
Listen to the ancestors who knew the faery host of old, and are yet alive to tell their tales.
And make room in your heart for the ancestors who have passed on, for their knowledge remains deep within your bones.
Step outside when daylight is waning, or yet to be fully born, and linger for a while in the suspended hush of a world that is content to rest.
You may hear the host upon the wind.
Let their sound be a bridge between the life you know and the ancient realm of dreams.
Call forth your imagination, and – just for now – see the dawning light through the faeries’ eyes.
Let their laughter pull the weariness from your heart.
Feel them soften the cynical views pressed upon you by adult life.
Remember what it was to be a child.
Watch the host fly, and join them for a moment or two: carried along by your inner uprising of whimsy. Wonder. Love.
See great winged horses fly overhead – how they dash over mountains and valleys, over the driest desert and the deepest ocean bed.
The great host leads you this way and that.
They dance for the joy of this moment, this time, this life… and the forests in which they roam are alight with movement, from the smallest flower to the grandest tree.
They show you the Earth as it once was: great lands both known and unknown, and sacred lore that is held in trust by the ancient trees.
Spin with the host through echoes of time, and hope, and possibility, until you come to rest before their mother.
Her voice weaves a never-ending tapestry of what has gone, what is passing, and what is yet to be.
Let her heart meld with your own.
She tells you, ‘this is the home of all created things.’
This video is my tribute to the faery realm, and its beautiful, subtle magick.
Image/video clip credits:
‘Rays of the sun peek through a forest’ – Kelly Lacy
Tree in Bubble – Pexels
Mother and Son – Suzy Hazelwood
Wheat moves in field – Pexels
Imagination – Pixabay
Magical forest – Pixabay
‘Tree in forest of plants’ – veeterzy
‘Divine Life Society’ – Jesse Gallagher ✨