First, square that step.

Begin to gleam with joy.

Heal the being you are.

Do square the body, and

Give that token you have.

Speak forth your strength

In sound and form,

Create the light that leads

Your foot steps forth, and

Then on you go.

Shadow,
Show me who I am.

Who I can be,
But who, I will not.

Teach me the
Fullness of a circle.

Square my interests
True and level.

But Shadow,
Keep behind me.

Do not devour
The desires I crave.

Release from me
Those sirens who call.

Stand with me,
In the glory of the day,

Be always by my side Shadow,
And I shall call you Brother.

Curling buds,
Growing Moisture,
Fertility hops to.
Eostre watches;
Sprigs peek out,
Leaves spring gently
Into Existence.

Cernunnos
Is invoked, and
Brings life forth.
The old hag
Succumbs to
The horned
Man.

Her
Cold heart
Warms to
A gently
Breeze,
And brings
Blood to
Life.

This space,
A hairs width,
Just a tiny bit.
Space full with
Lustre and Lack,
Forging silence
Against Virtue.

A space full of
Nothing, and
More. The black
Thoughts, spiral,
Converge as one
And the space is
Full of nothing.

A space or
Place, that
Minds can
Sit, yet
Should not
Sit.

A wasted

Space.

Sit in the
Glory of
Day, and
Bath in
Its Selfless
Ways.

Rise in
The East
Set in
The West
Climb
Higher.

This

Beloved Now

Pulls Foot,
Tongue, and
Mind.

Holds True
And Mighty,
This Old Hand.

Stands Firm
Against The
Burning Winds,
Of Time. Watching
Embers Gust Past.

This Beloved Now
Greets Us but Once,
Treats Us like We
Are Forever Nuzzeld
Next, the ***** of
Eternity.

The Wonder
I Forage,
Nurtures Me,
Holds Me,
Tempts Me,
Seeks for Me.

The Truth
I Bare,
Weighs Me,
Calls Me,
Tempts Me,
Seeks for Me.

The Poison
I Indulge,
Wares Me,
Needs Me,
Tempts Me,
Seeks for Me.

The Council
I Keep,
Guides Me,
Lifts Me,
Tempts Me,
Seeks for Me.

Woven Lines
Bound Tight,
Overlapping,
Contemplating
Rank and Satus;
Seeking Order.

The Highest
Of Highs, an
Upward Gaze.
A Brilliant Light,
Tempts Me,
Seeks for Me.
Sits with Me.
Sits with You.
Sits with US.

Darkness stirs the nectar
Of despotisms fatal cull.
A river bleeds out the
Fatal loss of fears cut.
Burning embers fall and
Gather, as villagers once had.
Near a smoulder, the wick
Of Creation sits in darkness.
The culling hands of Power,
Fear, and Hate, have broke
Again that internal flame.
I quiver at that piercing pain;
A pain that time has carried
Forever on the souls of man.
Darkness stirs on that ever
Broken nectar, who’s rot
Wares on the one mind.
I wish to calm those storms
Within, and light that candle
Wick and send that darkness
Running far off into the eternal.