The Fallen Elves

We were the elven elite;

All other races envied us.

How could they even compete?
And yet, we were oblivious,

Unaware of the snare

We were about to glide into.

It began as a dare;

Oh, but it rent our world in two.

And we fell from the bright northern heights

Of our blue enchanted kingdom faraway;

We became a race of restive sprites,

Nomads in the wilderness of our dismay.

We'd bathe in magical streams;

Wild river spirits beckoned us.

Passion and pride were our themes;

We were a race vainglorious.

In our strength so secure,

Mightiest of the Pantheon,

Till we faced the allure

Of the destructive, darkened one.

And we fell from the glorious heights

Of our blue enchanted kingdom faraway;

We became a race of restive sprites,

Nomads lost in the wilderness of our dismay.

Lifeless, we pine evermore

For that which we'll never regain...

In the realm of dark folklore,

Suns engulfed by a prideful rain.

© 2024 David Acosta