Where one hundred white lillies grow new every day

Where mist in the morning is lighter than air

Some even say that fairies live there

At just the right moment, when mist becomes light

God's golden fingers erase all the night

If you look very carefully, look without seeing

You'll see a strange sight... a magical being

Out of the mist an image is born

Whiteness all glowing with one gleaming horn

He breathes out the last of the mist from his birth

In the coolness his hooves barely touch the earth

Some say he is made from pure love, hope, and light

But you'll only see him when your eyes are closed tight

You won't find this place on a map or a chart

The only route there is to travel by heart.