Hocus Pucus

At every birth is God, by whom each lifespan is decided, and when One spends another year, a cherubim will then appear to note the age, lest one spend more than what the Lord's provided... ...and in the wood, behind the thick, Medieval wenches, ravenous for skin that clings to flesh like silk, and in light shimmers, pale as milk, have a special, ghastly trick for keeping health like maidens: Bring a victim to your palms and hold It to your lips, purse them, then consume the soul (slowly; never take it whole, or leave It even partly full— waste not a bit!) in sips. Mind the age of every one; the rest of what's allotted upon ingestion of a soul will be reckoned with your own longevity, it should be know— by children, be besotted! Stay you healthy, young and fine, for ever uneclipsed, and them stay humanly resigned, until they separate, in time, as we're each to eternity eternally affixed!