The Crone

February 24, 2018

I am the silence of midnight,
and black velvet skies.
I am the shadow of vision
that tempers your eyes.
I am the darkness of secrets
that draw the veil thin,
The coldness of winter
that shakes on your skin.

I am Grandmother, Weaver,
Enchantress and Crone.
The knowledge of Justice
that strikes at the bone.
Destruction is mine when its time comes to be:
Death to the living, who all come to me.

Mine is the hand of the spinning of fates.
Mine is the passage between life’s fragile gates.
I am the giver of magickal sight,
The slight sliver of waning moonlight.
I am the branch of ageless worn trees.
Hear my voice and know me!

I am the Raven that flies through the woods,
Black silken wings opened up to the sky!
Bearer of closure, competition, and truth
Dreamscapes and Banshee am I!
Mine is the wisdom that comes in the dark.
Mine is the dying that calls to your flesh.
Mine are the hidden remains of your heart.
Mine is the mist that will take your last breath.

Give unto me what is old and outworn,
And I will return it with new life reborn.
Give me your sorrows, your sadness, your grief.
And in the dark hour, I will give thee relief!

I am the giver of death and rebirth,
Mine are the last things, before they are first.
See me in the shadows, and in the dark sea.
I am the Crone!
Hear my voice and know me!

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