W.B. Yeats
The Irish Mystic of the Twilight
The wind's voice echoes in my verse.
I wandered the hills of my youth with ink-stained hands and a heart full of faery tales. Theosophy, the Golden Dawn, and the songs of the Sidhe shaped my pen. My verses are spells — for you, perhaps, a whisper from beyond the veil.
What I'm Into: the Golden Dawn, faery tales, moonlit glens, my father's paintings, Irish twilight
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