In a valley of mist, ancient and green,
lived Elara, a girl with a whimsical sheen.
One winter's evening, a great shaking sound,
the brightest star tumbled down to the ground.
It fell on the high peak, a whisper of light,
leaving the valley too dark for the night.
The sleeping magic began to dim down,
Elara knew she must leave her small town.
Oh, Wandering Star, fly up to the blue!
With harps and tin whistles,
we'll see your light through.
A mystical journey, a hopeful design,
I'll leave my small footprint on a path so divine.
With steps full of courage, the mist I will break,
for this vital mission, my wish I will make.
A moth made of moonlight, a swift guiding friend,
gave a gentle signal right 'til the end.
"The Misty Woods wait, you
must pass them with care,
where the Celtic music floats up in the air."
She crossed the soft river that sang a sweet tune,
built a small magic bridge beneath the pale moon.
Then climbed the great mountain,
the last rocky crest,
where the star lay in silence, needing a rest.
Oh, Wandering Star, fly up to the blue!
With harps and tin whistles,
we'll see your light through.
A mystical journey, a hopeful design,
I'll leave my small footprint on a path so divine.
With steps full of courage, the mist I will break,
for this vital mission, my wish I will make.
The star felt so cold, a shimmering tear,
Elara breathed deep and held it so near.
She sang a sweet melody, a wish from her heart,
a spark from her soul right from the start.
The gem shone again, a bright burning flair,
a silver thread rising up through the air.
Now the dark sky shines brighter than before,
the star lights the cosmos forevermore.
Elara returned, with stories untold,
the true kind of magic is more precious than gold.