Hecate, my goddess.
She reigns over crossroads, magic, witchcraft.
Some say the night, the moon, the doorways are her domain.
Hecate, triple goddess,
Maiden, Mother, Crone.
Wolves, torches, snakes, and knives,
signs of my great deity.
I beg of you, oh goddess, anger not at me, but teach me to be better, to follow in your ways.
Teach me to be a witch, dear goddess.
Music is so ancient.
It's so odd to think that
The sweet lilting of the flute,
Played through my speakers, read from a CD-
Could be so close to the sound of reed pipes!-
Played by children dancing in the forest.
Landslide
A song, by Fleetwood Mac.
Sung by Stevie Nicks.
The kind of song that evokes such nostalgia in me,
A kind of gentle pain for the memories of the past,
And a desire to embrace my future.
I long to travel:
Wanderlust tugs at my soul.
Maine screams my name,
The ocean calls for its siren far away.
Salem calls me,
Whispering tales of young girls lost to time.
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