Elven brethren stop by blacksmitheries;
Atop hay colored prairie hills dotted with
Windmill powered cottages
Adorned with thatched roofs
And downy feathered sidings,
As they carried mangled tassets jammed
Into their amazing cheaply-made magic satchels,
After the news spread. The hullabaloo directed at them in
Not fulfilling the annual request they
Were specifically entrusted with, in confidence,
In their conflict avoidance at facing
Webbed footed monster aliens, that
Inflicted shortsightedness in the consequences
Of their actions and the outcomes that went along with them.
As they entered they begged for mercy
In the instances of their bothered confirmation biases,
And for losing themselves daily
At the eve of their merry boffery.
“Unacceptably”, they’d say, in doing so
Instead of using their powers
Of prescience to see into the winters
As they were left feeling resoundingly
Knights clamored in ill-suited armors, they
Ravaged and pillaged expanses in lost time.
Rubbles of crumbled castle towers, massive
Gothic cathedrals, eradicated in the search
For extricated remains of mystical stones.
Falsified ramifications denounced by bellmen
Decrying purifications within those currencies,
Deemed to be remnants of illusionistic histories;
Defiled. Vilifications of mystiques, their tomes,
Spells, and enchanted wards, decidedly null.
Disillusioned carriages brimming with urns of
Fallen kings and queens and other royalties,
Carried by riders that knew in certainties of
War torn villages, wrecked and salvaged in
Merrymade haste by friars and their friends.
Freights of fractional constructions piled onto
Dreary heights in attempted removals whilst
Deprecated villagers weeping ash filled tears
Swept trampled dirt trails of the long begotten:
Ratifyingly frightened encounters on dusty roads.
Disclosed occlusions of eternal salvations in
The ascension to compassions in blindfolded
Growths, innervated fervent roots in resisting
Townsfolk who’d build walls to prevent some
Futuristic alien life form from invading again.
They left glowing vapour trails
Gliding in the moonlit stratosphere
Waves of coloured lights undulated
Like the terrestrial Aurora Australis.
Stagnantly they hover within vision
Just for a moment,
Just long enough to soak it in,
Then they vanish.
If they wanted
They could have transmitted
Telepathic waves into our heads,
They could have made contact,
But they didn’t.
Only in memory,
They never existed.