I think this is beautifully written, once again by the Irish lady at Confessions of a Hedge Witch. To quote from her About section:
“Many Places have I known; and yet none, do I call home.
I am a wandering Witch, with an animist worldview (leaning heavily, in practice, toward non-theism), and currently live in Ireland. I approach witchcraft as praxis, not religion.
My academic interests are in sociology, psychology and folklore. My personal interests range from Seria A to megaliths, and I adore getting lost–especially in the rain.”
The stories you read of Ireland far away; long away, ago, in mist of time forgotten. Of gleaming paths, crystal jeweled, that stream into the night. Those nights. Oh, those nights….that illumine a ribbon winding. Yes, those nights…they are real! Those stories are of sight gifted, not by chance or luck or magic, but by birth. Luck of birth upon these isles where light angles, and mist falls, and some uncanny turn of our starship planet home, gifts this place.
For stories long forgotten, yet heard upon the winds, tell of this land of shining ways; and of people fair. Through time was it carried, first by mother, then by child.
But do not weep, or feel neglected. Your Place is waiting. For she has magic, too. Her story is yet written, or was written, yet told many long years…
so long. Ago. it was forgotten. In…
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