Fairy Ring

Fairy Ring

I walked into a quintessential glade,
when, on the green belt, I went wandering.
A slight departure from the well-worn trail,
into the middle of a fairy ring.
A canopy of branches arched around, 
more an ellipse, how mushrooms sometimes grow,
each was embedded neatly in the ground,
the shape comprised instead by pale white stones,
by thirteen points, an oblong circle, made.
At once, without a warning, there they were,
(a forest church, this was a sacred place),
twelve beings by each stone (but one) appeared.
I neither said a word nor did I scream.
My silence saved me from the fairies’ spell.
I didn't know about it at that time.
If I had spoken, this, what they would tell:
they would deny the world, by God, was made,
but rather, makes it, he, continuously.
The afterthought that never went unsaid:
if he e'er stopped, how all would cease to be.