Saturday, 23 November 2019

Sunday, 10 November 2019

Merchant of the Gray Witch

Let me see, your
hidden face.
Take me to your
secret place.

Where the dark crows
do gather
And the gray witch
does slumber.

Beneath Soil, wrapped
in her roots.
Free of all Earth
snared disputes.

She awaits thee
and your kind.
To bind your souls
and your minds...

With black magic,
words of woe
She will steal your
very soul.

Leaving a beast
by daylight
and human by
the moonlight

To serve her own
secret will:
to bring to her,
daily fill

Of skin masks from
lonesome ones
Missing daughters
and lost sons.

Take from them the
very earth
Prepare it for
her rebirth.

When the sick world
shall bleed red
And she will name
their last dread.

And ascend to
her pale throne.
To rule ashes,
all alone.