Come and sit with me if you are able
And I’ll tell you the tale of Flame and Fable
The crone opens a book as you sit by the fire
As Hyggie reads the title, the flames grow higher
This grimoire is old, even older than me
It will grant your wishes for a small fee
A sketch of a candle with a spiral inside
She snaps bony fingers, and its twin comes alive
Hyggie cackles as the candle flickers and glints
It is enchanted from within; no need for a flint
The story begins in a cottage hidden from view
Where magic surprises and the old becomes new
A tale of two kingdoms, one light and one dark
Where glimmer meets shadow, and old magic sparks
The sun gives chase to the moon above
But it cannot be caught, not without love
A warm hand extended can invoke the breeze
To meet in the middle with balance and ease
The shadow will soften and remember its name
Inspired by the candor of Fable and Flame
The Kingdoms exist within your heart
Where two flames unite, never to part
By embracing who you are in all of your forms
Past, present, and future merge; undoing forlorn
No force can come between you and yourself
For you are the gold, the wishes, and wealth
A spell cometh true because you will it be so
Sometimes all you need is a push for seeds to grow
The flame carries truth from the glow of your soul
While fable reveals fiction that you are not whole
You carry memory and story and wisdom that's true
In the darkest of places, may these words find you
As above, so below
May shadow meet light
By weaving these threads
Within I unite
The crone settles in, taking sips of her tea
Offering you a cup filled with sovereignty
Hyggie lives in the space of the in-between
Where the wild ferns grow and magic gleams
At the edge of the woodlands, a doorway stands
With a woven archway to the borderlands
Her cottage in the forest exists in a liminal space
Where moments stand still, and memories chase
The crone meets you with a glint in her eye
For she knows only truth and has a cure for the lie
“Come in, come in, stop in for a spell
The tea is hot, and I have stories to tell”
She welcomes you with warmth and a steady hand
Offering you presence and the gift of her land
“What I give to the land, it gives back to me
We provide for each other, an exchange that is free”
Hyggie offers you seeds, teaching you how to sow
“A garden well-tended will flourish and grow”
She observes, she waits, patience lines her skin
Watching the winds shift, truth felt from within
Allowing the words to flow right from her heart
Thunder rolls and it claps, and the false falls apart
“There, now you see?” An owl lands on her shoulder
“Time works with you, dear; You are the beholder
It exists in your realm, but the rush is of the mind
You are right where you should be, not falling behind
Intend to stand still, it works like a charm
I have just the thing,” she says, taking your arm
“Here you can see, I’ve got quite the collection
Of candles woven with enchanted reflections”
Books, potions, and jars line the wide mantle
Scrolls, parchments, and herbs, with many spell candles
“Here, my dear, warm your bones by the fire
I’ll whip up a spell that’s sure to inspire”
A cozy, warm chair invites you in
Snuggle in for a rest, allow stillness to win
Hyggie opens her desk, and a tiny mouse climbs out
Hopping up on her shoulder, her assistant, no doubt
Fur brushes your skin, a red fox takes rest at your feet
You begin to wonder curiously who else you might meet
The crone places the cauldron atop the embers below
Stirring it gently, hands guiding with light all aglow
You watch as she steadily pours in the mixture
To a jar that is waiting to contain the elixir
Hours pass within moments, or maybe not at all
You begin to drift gently, breath rises and falls
She offers you a scroll, an incantation written inside
“To reveal what is hidden, a truth for a lie
Light the wick, watch it flicker; the flame reveals all
Read these words; soul remembers, it waits for your call”
I am worthy to receive every moment of time
I call back what I am owed; the present is mine
As you find stillness, she offers you a mug
A warm blend of patience, perseverance, wisdom, and love
The Maiden wandered off to seek her other half
He went into the woods, and he did not come back
She followed, leaving breadcrumbs, to find her way back home
Hoping to find her path again, for she was traveling alone
The cold winds whistled, sharply nipping at her nose…
Journeying deeper into the forest, into the unknown
He left early in the morning, leaving wreckage in his wake
She couldn’t dance without him; this must be a mistake
Fear spiraled in her belly, coiling, wrapping very tight
What if I cannot find him? I hope he is alright
Determination rose, and she ventured even deeper
She came across a cottage, where inside lived a weaver
Hyggie sat plucking threads, wrapping ends around her fingers
The crone smirked coyly as the maiden stood and lingered
“Have you something to ask, dearie? I haven’t got all day”
She replied, “I’ve lost someone close to me- did he come across this way?”
The crone said, “Come and gone, just as quickly as he arrived
I can help, but for a cost,” and she welcomed her inside
Trinkets, herbs, and bobbins decorated the shelves
Crystal balls, magic wands, and tarnished silver bells
The weaver began rummaging, clanking items on the mantle…
Removing what appeared to be a rather simple candle
She set it on the table and said, “Here, read this incantation”
The maiden retrieved the scroll, accepting her invitation
Ha-lo, ha-lay, ha-morah
My love, I call to thee
Exchanging what was traded
My heart is now set free
The crone nodded in approval, and she handed her a match
Striking it against rough granite, her power to dispatch
The maiden felt off balance, and she held tight to a chair
“I don’t wish to pursue him any longer- I think I need some air”
Legs a little shaky, as she headed for the door
Emerging a new woman, different than before
Not wanting his attention or his company to dance
Inhaling fresh perspective, exhaling faulty circumstance
She turned to face the crone, “What debt do I owe thee?”
She shook her head and cackled, “You have paid it, sweet dearie”
The price was the illusion that you were half and not a whole
You gave it freely and released it- May your heart be ever-full
Wildfires swept through the dry landscape
Pine needles turned to embers in its wake
The lad jumped from the treehouse in an attempt to flee
Running towards the meadow to swiftly warn the Sidhe
Its grasses swayed intrinsically, lost in flowing dance
Redcap mushrooms lit the way, encircled the entrance
Through the hollows and with the wind, he ran with all his might
He hoped to warn them of the danger and the fire on this night
He arrived with a whoosh, bending over to slow his breathing
But instead of finding the woodland fae, sat a Crone a’weaving
“But the folk were just here… I saw them yesterday
I came here to warn them of a fire on the way”
She clucked, “You won’t find them here; they have already gone
They could hear the whispers on the wind and decided to move on”
Patting the chair next to her, “Here, come and join me, instead
I have some tricks tucked up my sleeve that I’m happy to lend”
His jaw dropped, and he gestured, pointing to the forest
“But the fire, it is coming and it is heading right for us”
Arching a brow, she stood, stepping inside the door
“The land is protected from fire, using magic to be sure”
He shook his head and followed her into the warm, lit cottage
She picked up a weathered scroll and shared with him this knowledge
“Use these words; they will root you, planting you where you stand
Helping you to breathe easy and bring healing to your land”
Sa-lo, Sa-lay, Sa-mir, Sa-linn
Ancient cloves, herbs, and cinnamon
Please bless my lands in four directions
For nourished grounds and divine protection
The Crone patted his shoulder, handing him a candle
“Light it when you are weary and the weight too much to handle”
He thanked her, and she sent him on his way
Discovered his home intact, much to his dismay
When he took a step forward, his foot caught on a root
He looked down at the ground, where lush green was kept from soot
A ring of redcap mushrooms wrapped around his tree
Grounded, safe, and firmly rooted, the lad would always be
The lass went foraging, picking berries from the branches
The bluebirds and the squirrels exchanged pointed glances
If she plucked any faster, she would run out of steam
Rest and slowing down would help her energy to beam
Sitting down in the brush against an oak so tall
Not able to stay awake, she slowed down to a crawl
Drifting off gently, the breeze sang her right to sleep
Colors danced behind her eyes, her breath became deep
Dreams depicted memories, lifetimes of old
Cycles needed stillness for movement to unfold
Elementals whispered in her ears gently, cooing while she slept
Telling secrets in hushed giggles while an ancient stag crept
He lay down next to her, enormous antlers nestled in the ivy
While an old crone watched them afar, smiling oh-so kindly
She wove magic into a candle, enchanting it with sunlight
Writing an inscription on a scroll to revitalize her sight
The lass stirred and awakened, twigs and leaves tangled in her hair
Next to her was a basket full of goodies, packed with love and care
She wondered who could have left it; such a thoughtful surprise
She stood, scanning the forest, and the crone met her eyes
She viewed the position of the sun and began to panic
“I haven’t picked enough for dinner- my mother will be frantic”
“Oh, come now, there is plenty more time to forage if it’s needed
Check inside the basket. I brought you food- you seemed depleted.”
She could smell fresh bread and stew coming from inside it
Pulling out a candle and a scroll, the Crone said, “Recite it”
Be gone all drains, be gone all stress
With these words, I now bless
Energy return, depletion depart
Revitalize, replenish, and ease will start
The Crone chimed, “Exerting so much energy and spending time on worries
Planning and taking time for self-care may slow down all this hurry
Say those words in the morning before you ignite the wick
Take three deep breaths, filling your lungs, and your energy will stick
There will be days you don’t want to move or even get up from your bed
Running on empty will only make it more challenging, creating internal dread
With gentleness and kindness to self, from the inside out, you’ll nourish
By living lightly and savoring every berry picked, creativity will flourish”
She journeyed to a land that space and time forgot
Not a compass or a map, or much planning or a plot
Arriving at a labyrinth that kept her secrets buried
Surrendering illusion and confusing thoughts she carried
This will take forever to find my way, came foggy thoughts
Unsure where I’m going, which seems more often than it’s not
Resistance crept and filled her mind with unclear doubt
Heart gave motivation to stick to and then appeared her route
One step forward was all she needed
To find it was easier than once preceded
Taking a sharp turn towards the North
Continuing the journey that soul set forth
She rushed through rows of greenery
Never stopping to enjoy the scenery
Tired from her walk to the center of the maze
She sat down by a fountain reflecting sunlit rays
A crone appeared in the threshold, walking through the trees
Hyggie offered enchanted candles, ancient scrolls, and magic teas
“Would you like to make a wish?” The old woman offered her a scroll
The maiden fished inside her pockets, offering payment for the toll
Hyggie shook her head and said, “No, it does not work that way
To fulfill the wish deep in your heart, there is no price to pay
Close your eyes, make a wish, and toss your coin into the water"
She shut them tight and tossed the coin in hopes her dream would prosper
Unrolling the aged parchment, she squinted at the words
Speaking in an ancient tongue that she had never heard
Amarrow- day, amarrow- dawn
This mental battle, I have won
All the hardship and delay
Will depart and will not stay
The crone nodded once and handed her a candle
“Light it before a task, and leave it on your mantle
You will find your way out of this maze more quickly than you entered
The work will become the play, and the weight will be surrendered”
The clock struck midnight, and she ran for cover
Looking for a shoe made of glass, not of old rubber
The maiden couldn’t hide for long; this much she knew
The magic bean she planted in the ground drastically grew
A throne of old stone waited for her to take a seat
Tasks piled up that she could not complete
She crept from the floor, face etched with worry
Jumping up on bare feet, unhinged with scurry
A peculiar beginning for this tale
A weary maiden, meek and frail
It would not end with a rush, for this was planned
It would steady in pace and slow to a stand
For once, she stood still, the crone would appear
A wand in her hand, pumpkin coach drawing near
She stood waiting impatiently, as still as she could muster
Staring into the distance, the palace losing its luster
Suddenly, the Crone emerged from out of the thicket
Leaning onto her walking staff and holding a cricket
His chirps erupted in symphony, stars lined in the sky
Fireflies danced and formed circles; she heard the crone sigh
“About time you slowed down; I couldn’t reach you at all
I had a gift to offer you before you went to the ball”
The maiden stared down at the ground; a lump formed in her throat
“But I am out of time,” she whispered, “and now out of hope”
The Crone wiped tears from the maiden, reaching into her satchel
Retrieving a candle, a scroll, and a juicy red apple
“Ha, wrong story,” said she, tucking the apple away
Unraveling parchment, instructing maiden to say…
Align the stars, alight the flame
I call back time that is mine to claim
I release all worry, frenzy, and chaos from me
I am present, peaceful, fulfilled, and free
With a sharp snap, a flame drew from the crone’s finger
The maiden lit the candle, wondering what time would bring her
Standing in stillness, embracing the cool spring breeze
Magic buzzed in the air, sweeping through the leaves
“We cannot control time; it is not ours to tame
We can create magic within it, our desires to claim
Search deep, aim high, and hold true to your dreams
Sometimes the impossible is tangible and closer than it seems”