We Are the Fae

I forgot how to write poems

Is that when you make your best attempt at translating the unexplainable into a distorted image someone can enjoy for a moment

Thinking they caught a glimpse of your humanity?

Or is it when you remember, for a moment, what life always was

Or when you let the writing remind you?

It doesn't happen often anymore

But when it does

Different seasons carry distinct smells, nightfalls, and atmospheric conditions for outer worlds to turn inward

By meeting me where I am and reaching me

Temporarily

Judgement falls away

Pretenses stop existing

And we're allowed to be with each other 

The lights are on

The currents are running

And everything that is real comes into being

Yes, including the Fae

And the income taxes

And everything in between

Isn't this where we all came from?

Before confusing ourselves for 

Pineal gland calcification

Synaptic pruning

And chemical imbalance?

Before confusing our world for chaos, sickness, and ruin?

We are emanations of Nature

We are waters flowing in their conscious, narrative, interactive forms

We are the Fae

And the Fae

Answer to no one