In the space between moments
A curious hand pulls back a frost leaden branch,
And wide turquoise eyes stare through the heavily blanketed haze.
Shadows shift mysteriously at an unattentive glance,
And somewhere ahead a soft yellow glow is ablaze.
An icy breeze eerily whispers through the tree's lifeless arms,
As the gate of time shatters and the past becomes the present.
The magic that normally lays dormant now begins to work amazing charms,
And the threshold between one's fantasies and reality is twisted and bent.
Now dancing solemnly through the cold, wintery mist,
Are great, leathery skinned warriors of a time long ago.
Their eyes are cunning, their skin sun kissed,
Granted with an earthy beauty and also skilled with dagger and bow.
The wafting Celtic spirits initiate a long forgotten ritual,
Praising timeless gods in a timeless tradition.
Beneath the frosted moonlight the dance continues, never turning dull,
And a hunting melody plays on, it's eternal song never done.
Time's barrier then molds back together in perfect form,
And the great Celtic dance fades from view.
Only one will ever see the past's mishappen raging storm,
And forever gone are those moonlit memories, warriors dancing in the midnight blue.