A Prayer to the Dark Mother

As sweet as the teardrop of a woman
The softness of grazed, stinging flesh
No brighter than the night's sky
Softly singing
Into which my soul
It's memory flings
Forgotten pieces
Lost in that heap of time

The black mirror in which
My own soul was scryed that night upon the mountain
Soft lights in the distance and singing in the air
Listen to me, hear my words, understand the pleading that lies within my heart
Gentle, caressing hands of Mother Death
Softly spoken but not loud enough
Whispers on the wind in the veil of the night
Softly sleeping
I lay weeping
Amongst sheets
Alone that night
On the mountainside

Into which my soul
Plunged the darker depths
No brighter than obsidian
As loud as the gentle call of the morning bird
Softly spoken
Softly sung
She wove her net
The veil of the night is her cape
It covers the land
Into which my soul
Lay to rest

Alas time ends further
The circle never stops
They never weep
My treatise it ends
My soul, Dark Mother will keep