Disclaimer: Guess what? We live in an alternate reality where I own Artemis Fowl. If you don't believe me, than you live in the real reality where Eoin Colfer owns Artemis Fowl.


The Old Religion

We are the old religion,

The lightning and the rain.

We are the ways of nature,

That magick shall not wane.

We are the sacred power,

The legend and the booke.

We are the love of flying,

The journey that we took.

We are the vanished old ways,

The daytime and the night.

We are the shadows running,

To hide instead of fight.

We are the freedom taken,

The sprite, the centaur, elf.

We are the shining starlit night,

We are the slight of self.

We are the hills and grasses,

Scattered to the breeze.

We are the forests falling,

The animals and trees.

We are sitting, slowly dying,

As the Mud Men take the land.

We are the sacred wonder tales,

With healing in our hands.

We are together coming

To keep our world our own.

We are the council fighting,

To have us left alone.

We are the long-gone places,

With cities in their wake.

We are the ones who suffer,

And pity for pity's sake.

We are the surface, taken,

We are the old ways, gone,

We are the dying races,

We are the song, unsung.


Um...yeah. I havea thing for poetry now. Rhyming, yay!

Please review?

Oh, and for those of you wandering why I can write this but I haven't updated If This Isn't Love, I'm updating RIGHT NOW. So, nyeh. Also, this was surprisingly easy to write, and its really short.