Fuaim an tsolais ag bualadh ar chéad bachlóga an earraigh

Exiled?
For what?
Banished for what?
Not the killing of a prince
Exiled - not for doing what needed to be done
Not for preserving the veil
Not heralded a hero
Not a hero

Exiled
The door is barred
The way is shut
My hand marked.
Melancholy Truth.

Rejected by my own kind for refusing to
Rejected by my own kin for refusing to
Rejected by my kin for being unable to
be less than I am.

I am fae.
If I am what I am
My word is my vow
My promises are me.
And I am not a lie.

I am so much.
So so many things.
But not that.

Did Yone win?
Did I burn my hands
Did the iron cauterize my gut for nothing?
We gave mortals the spark, perhaps
But we did not give them the starlight
Did we?

What happened to my home
That the fae deal in the petty views of mortals?
What happened while I was gone
That I feel disgust for my own kin?

What happened to me?
Am I to blame?
My room felt like home, but home did not -
And I did not return once his highness was dead.

Now I can’t.
I do not get to gaze upon the sun and moons
The stars.
The colours.

The Sound of Light Hitting the First Buds of Spring
is exiled.

It is winter now
Cold and dark.
The realm sleeps.

When it is spring
Who will sing to the buds?
Who will wake them at first light if
the sound is not there?

If I am not there.

Will they wake too soon?
If they are deceived they will wake too soon
and wither.

My dual nature
Light and Dark
Promises both sunrise and sunset.

Exile me and you exile truth.
Exile me and you exile loyalty.

I have learned love.
When I should have learned manipulation.
I have taken justice
Rather than vengeance.
I have done what the king should have done
I am what the king should be.

If he is not
He is truly not my kin.
And I bear no loyalty to him.

My realm and king
As I said before.
Are one.

So be it.
If he will have me
Both to serve and to govern.
Clasped arms in a half embrace.

What is this Mantra they speak of?
And how many of us bear the mark of exile?