Beyond the pale, that hidden fence just past my comfort zone,
beyond the line where safety lurked, a land of wind and bone --
I remember well my walking there at times when I was young,
amid the shadows of the trees, where mysteries were sung,
where banshees wailed and satyrs danced and the drum beat loud and long
where trees hid many shadows –it was there when I was young.
But now the ghosts are friendlier, companions of the way,
and the fence has long since fallen down with misuse and decay.
I am not the girl I used to be back then when I was young --
I have heard so many songs and felt the shadows they have flung,
the banshee lets me know the time, the satyrs have flat feet,
and Pan is just another guy who lives just down the street ---
but mystery intrigues me still, and I wonder loud and long,
but are my answers wiser now than those when I was young?