There are no elves in these woods.
No glittering, scrutinising, wide eyed stares.
No small chattering bodies, concealed high up within the sweeping branches,
plotting some mischief for the unsuspecting creatures far below.
The humans have chased them away
There are no fairies nor pixies spinning and twirling to the midnight music.
No magic circles fashioned by the explosion of fungi on the forest floor.
No Dryads concealing their ephemeral beauty behind a favoured tree.
The Lordly Cernunnos does not stride through these woods to seek out and destroy his adversaries.
The humans chased them all away
The humans came and frightened our myths away,
Tore down the wild woods within which the fairy folk had their homes.
Cut down the undergrowth that fed and housed these woodland creatures.
Silenced the song of the trees and flowers, the birds and the bees.
Should we but cease our poisonous ministrations and let Gaia walk freely on the land, these woods may change.
If we pause, we may once again hear an orchestration, a cacophony of music.
The prattling, squealing, sing song twittering of the creatures may reappear, gossiping between each other, publicising their presence
The woodland will creak to the ministrations of beautiful winged zephyrs playing joyfully between the tree tops.
Life and death, birth and rebirth will transpire amongst this arboreal musical opus, never ceasing always there.
No peace will be attained within the wild wood, yet it will be peacefully profound.
Bring an end to the ruin we have caused and instead nurture our woodlands.
Then maybe, just maybe, the Elves will return.