Good morning darklings.  I’m in a kind of bad mood today so insteadsparkle witch of a regular blog I’m going to write a poem.  It used to help when I was younger.  Let’s hope I’m not so old that I’ve outgrown the benefits.

Darkness settled and the moon rose high

Her shadows stretched and eclipsed.

The rest of the work bathed in her blue

But the witch and her cast had slipped

Bare branches reached upward

The air turned chill

For the first time ever

Magic didn’t bend to here will

She summoned more power

And chanted her cast

But she had called down the moon

And her effects last

Now the witch carries more of the night

Her eyes that shine when the moon is full

A dusting of stars glimmers in her hair

Her warm touch now chilled and cool

But now she has power like never before

A thought, not a cast, will weave

All at one time she is the Maiden

The Mother and finally the Crone

Her coven call her Highest Priestess of all

For now the moon’s power is also her own

 

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