in the world beyond the woods *

In the world beyond the woods, we are dreaming. We live in old stories that eddy around us, breaking only rarely into a new pattern. We speak our own enchantments like wild promises, although they fade away in the light of morning.

And always there is a great hum. It is the sound of our making steel dragons, and cold fires, and fine, astonishing, dream-coloured bones. There is no sway in this sound - no little moments of astonishment and fear or delight as there is when leaf rustles against leaf, or wave brushes the shore. The hum goes on, implacable. We don't like surprises.

And sometimes we rise up with wisdom like a simple flower which knows all the ways of the world. And we are beautiful, and powerful; and standing knee-deep in the ocean, we hold the stars in our hands.

We are a magical race. The elves must look out as us and wonder.



* Am reading : The Book of Atrix Wolfe by Patricia McKillip (again)
which is where the title for this post came from, page 7

* Am listening : to French for Rabbits, (thank you Leonie), and swooning.