Teleport me to the Gateway

Receive my thoughts

You entered my inner sanctum, Traveler. Mystic fantasy is my deep joy; ancient mysteries my great enthusiasm. Enter here the dark forests through the mists of time, pass thru the veil of antiquity; discover long-abandoned honor, chivalry, and heroism.  Open your mind, release your imagination; perceive the vision of the mystic realm.

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do not hesitate here at the doorway to the Mystic Realm

Below you will find a guide for your journey- he awaits you now

I will lead, ye must follow

I be your guide, where will ye go?

Aah . .  so ye wish to see visions of another world, eh?  Then look into the Scrying Bowl and cast your gaze upon the landscapes of another age and world.

Alas, I know your kind well.  You harbor dark fantasies.  Come then, into the darkness, to hear ancient tales to turn your blood cold. Trod into the heart of the Dark Forest if ye dare.

So you think yourself valiant then?  Follow me to the Questing Mount and your fate will be decided by your courage and perserverance.  Then we shall see . . .

You would educate yourself it seems.  I will send you to the Wizard and he will instruct you with features, articles, and many difficult lessons in the Wizard's Tower.

You have strayed from the path to follow the Fairy Lights and now you shall be lost forever in the twilight between the worlds, never to return from the mystic realm.

Had I the heavens embroidered cloths, enwrought with golden and silver light, the blue and the dim and the dark cloths, of night, and light, and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet. But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.                                   W. B. Yeats, 19th century Irish poet and author Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet tis early morn, Leave me here and when you want me, sound upon the bugle horn. Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark; and may there be no sadness of farewell when I embark, for tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place the flood may bear me far, I hope to see my pilot face to face, when I have crossed the bar. Slowly answered Arthur from the barge; "The old order changes yielding place to the new, and God fulfills Himself in many ways, lest one good custom corrupt the world." Our little systems have their day, they have their day then cease to be. They are but broken lights of Thee, and thou, O Lord, art more than they. Let knowledge grow from more to more, but more of reverence in us dwell, that mind and soul according well, may make one music as before. I held it Truth with him who sings to one clear harp in diverse tones, that men may rise on stepping-stones, of their dead selves to higher things.                              Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 19th century poet and author If there were dreams to sell, what would you buy? Some cost a passing bell, some a light sigh, that shakes from Life's fresh crown only a roseleaf down. If there were dreams to sell, merry and sad to tell, and the crier rung the bell what would you buy?                           Thomas Lovell Beddoes, 19th century poet

to the universal PORTAL