Fog brings stillness (and fantasy)

It happened tonight. For my first time in eleven months a cloak of mist filled the town’s air. As I approached home I felt protected by it. Immersed in it as I was, I heard little if any of the street hum, just but a few merchants adding up their modest day earnings, lifting their improvised shops, the streets free of the many four-legged creatures that roam their hours of darkness.

It was precisely today that I needed my fog mate for its stillness, for that is what it always brings to me. Finding me self alone as I did and far from my Ellan Vannin – the Isle of Man, of the Kingdom of the Isles-, where I come from, across the Lir, I pondered it could not but be true that the power of Manannán mac Lir son of the Sea that guards my Isle safe, abides not to the Manx Sea that saw my Celtic, Gaelic or Norse people crossing, but to “the Sea” as a single reign.

I filled my lungs with this mist-balm and pedalled light, my legs a triskelion of three, and lost myself to think of her, the one of all, my beautiful fairy of fair hair. Would she to my humble castle be its Fairy Queen? On one such night, so very long ago I left port to sought of her, but. sought she could not be. In this journey just me have I found and just me had me lost before.




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Fog brings stillness (and fantasy) by Juan Ayza M. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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