03/09/2025
Let's fly, child, to catch moonlit glare-coins, to play hide-and-seek with owls, to comb the tangled manes of grass, to fall asleep, burying our face in cozy fox fur. Let's fly on the fresh night wind to dance with the stars and trees. You will see how pearls of dew fall from our hands onto sleeping meadows. Look how the flower of the fire beckons. Around it, those who are destined to die laugh and cry. Half a breath, half a glance forever separate us from death and from the gloomy life in its shadow. We greedily reach for their transition. The houses of the village are illuminated by the haze of joy and sorrow. We run past with quiet laughter, without looking back, carefree and elusive. When the hearth burns out, we will go to it to warm ourselves, and woe to those who extinguished the fire behind them. Let's fly! We will go down the ancient path to the seabed to chase schools of fish, to stroke the herring on its shiny scales, to watch the selkie dance in the silver swell.
We fly away, to light flying lanterns, to listen to the stories of stones and heather, to braid streams of water into long pigtails. Do you want me to weave you a necklace of moonlight, the reflection of a dragonfly and the song of a chaffinch? Here you go! Jump, don’t be afraid, the hands of the trees will catch you.
Do you hear what the stones are muttering? That one was a wall in the house, and that one was a fragment of a star, and that one was the pavement of the road. A hundred years ago a mortal walked along it to defend his home. I remember I warned him that he was not destined to return, but he only shrugged and gripped the butt of his weapon. And this cobblestone remembers the ungrateful one who threw rose-petal slippers into the fire, a gift from the queen herself, when she could have danced with us every night until dawn. Nothing more remains of her.
The morning is coming. Blessings to those who left bread to satisfy our hunger. Eat, child, so that the cold winds of another do not blow you away before the Last Hour strikes. Weep with us! Today we remember all who will not return, the beauty that has sunk forever. Dark flags wave like shadows over bowed faces, heads covered with feathers, fur, hair, moss. The flute sobs.
Look, there is the queen! She is dancing in a circle, and a golden circlet is on her hair. Smile at her, child, and join the circle! Don't look back! What are the worries of the world to you, if we have chosen you? Look into her eyes, child, dance with us.
Dreams of the Sleeping Guardians of Faerie Hill.
Altar statue (Guardians of Faerie Hill) is looking for a new home.
Height 5.5 cm. Material: natural stone of unique shape.
Stone carving, handcrafted, tinted, waxed...
For all questions, write to Messenger.
