| Mystical rosesOnly once rosebuds bloom In the land of misty gloomWhere darkness covers allEverlasting FlameDeep and dark lies FireBurning Flames that desireA heart so pureThe Magic VinesWhere the vines above the tree tops grow, A sacred land of peace does show,In slumber lies the fate from deep, And runs the pools that make them weep,But far and dark there lies a place, Where no one sees a friendly face,The trees do blow and whisper in the wind,Bringing in an eerie thought never to be dimmed,These places fight and bloom and flower,And fire and shake and darkness does devour,But within this field, this, land, this world,There is a saviour that lies uncurled,It sleeps with fear,Its time draws near,When the sun does shine and gleam,That’s when the magic weaves as like dream, When The Magic Vines are in power,The misty rains do fall and shower,And for a second a lonely thought,This clear magic feeling cannot be fought,In the time when the Magic Vines do grow.Gina Gilmore |