In Honor of WB Yeats

In twilight's shimmering embrace, I tread,
Amidst the mists where secrets lie unfurled,
Where ancient tales, by time's hand, were bred,
And whispers haunt the edges of the world.

The faerie folk, in whispered dreams concealed,
Dance upon moonbeams, ethereal and rare,
Their laughter lingers, like a mystic shield,
Enchanting all who dare to venture there.

Beneath the shadowed trees, a murmured call,
From distant realms, where magics softly weep,
And in the breeze, a melancholy thrall,
The spirits' lamentations gently seep.

Oh, Ireland's heart, where legends intertwine,
Where ancient spirits roam the verdant glen,
Their timeless wisdom woven in each line,
Of tales that echo, and endure again.

Yet, as the stars upon the heavens gleam,
I sense a shift, a change within the air,
The echoes of a world lost in a dream,
Awakening to truth, with love and care.

For though the past, in sepia tones, remains,
The future beckons with a hopeful sway,
Where dreams can thrive, unshackled from old chains,
And shape a world where love will have its say.

So, let us honor Yeats and his poetic fire,
With words that stir the soul and hearts ignite,
May Ireland's spirit never tire,
As we embrace the dawn of a new light.