A Story of Wicca

Twas winter when I fell alone, one drop from hurting skies; That showed all the hurt and pain, deep within the core of eyes. The Raven flew and let a call, the trees knarled and scard; A sad and mourning cry of pain and love, the night before she died. And such a morning that it was, the Raven's soul gone 'way; A new beginning in the death, and knowledge she left along the way. The Stag awoke with such a start; Golden light peeking through the fog, his Doe bringing kin to his life at last; a sence of joy and pride in his heart to hold. Within the den; gray as the skies, she slept with flicking ears, a yaun and stretch of wolfly guile, and golden eyes appeared. The snow it littered on the ground, left melted tracks of feet; And eyes they searched through dence brush and rain, for something of a morning treat. The wind it blew; and brought to her ears, the beat of new blood; Twas the wind that pushed her on; and thus she found their little cove, and with the scent she fell in love. For love to get away, the Stag he stayed. a mission of suicide at least; As the Wolf pounced upon his throat, and began her bloody feast. The ground, it stained, with the color of a surviving rose; The Faun, it cried at Fathers death, but ran when pushed by Mothers nose. Beneath the moon, there I stood, and fell on wobbely knees; My namesake falling from the broken sky, the crule and beautiful cycle I have seen. And in the night I heard a call, from Raven big and pure; That told of life and death and birth, of pain and love; and all thats great and unsure. And suddenly in Raven's eyes, I saw a single rose; The crimpson of my beating heart, the blood of the world, I know. The Stag he dies to be reborn, for his love he gives to all; The Wolf, a gaurdian of all things, watches to be sure the cycle doesnt fall. And in the night, listen close, and hear the Raven's song; A keeper of the knowledge, perhaps one day you'll sing along.