The compass be laid,
the quarters called
by the orbit of the center-point,
above
and below
All.
Light the hearth, stoke it good.
Grind the stone,
dance the round,
chant the sounds,
set the lights,
smoke the ground.
O Lady!
Come and be present
upon the blood-acre.
Rise in this space.
Dwell in this place.
Hear my call as daughter
of your light;
a flame of eternal night.
Old Ones, come!
O Holy of Holies,
with your breath of fire
and sight of light —
I gaze upon your
darkness that resides within,
upon your blackened peacock,
come forth and show
your hues — I invoke the muse.
I embrace your lava-waters;
that which has been repressed
in the sacred black-womb
where they boil and burn.
Spew your Eminence
to the heavens
and rage,
wild and
beautiful,
danger
ablaze.
I am the shrine
yours to shine,
star-bright,
from the holy
hole of eternal
night.
O hallowed ground,
I am thy round!
All pieces are newly crafted and posted shortly after in adherence to the rules of the challenge. All the photos are mine unless otherwise stated.
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