'neath the Dark Moon we kneel
By lantern light we dig.
The Grave pulled away-rich scented earth-from bone
These underworld creatures scurry
From hot flesh-leaving a feast of cold bone.
We are careful, in this place that is no place
This spot that has transported us all
To another place and time,
where we are alone
with the energies of the Underworld.
We open the entrance to the Mound
Earth's dark womb
As she births Death
tugging forth the skull
It is brittle and some teeth fall out,
But the Underworld has done its job.
Flesh cleaned from bone, dirt from the mound
Darkness holding greedily to the white.
We set it atop the Pentacle, the Hex
Cut the sigils of the 4 Daemon Kings of the Quarters
In the night air with hoofed blade.
It is brisk and our breaths mingle
With the smell of sulfur from the incense
Choking us with the secrets of the Pit…
We set the black candle between the horns
Careful to light it with fresh match
And sit, patiently in the circle of light.
We watch as the flame dances-gently against the night,
No wind to distinguish the flame,
an oddity in the West Texas night.
The shadow at the base of the candle reaches
Long and dark towards first one of us,
And then the next, the Shadows grown fingers
Pointing at each of us in turn
with expectation.With obligation.
We are one with the Mound.
We are one with the Night.
We are WitchBlood…