This night’s candle burns with
Eternal flame
A practice of white magick
To speak your name

Your spirit’s essence enters
This cauldron black
From Mother Harvest’s bounty
We can’t turn back

Serpents drink from pools of
Autumnal rain
And swallow suns that form as
Darkness’s bane

As the land calls forth for
Our great return
The Age of Gods is over
The temples burn

And now I see
Independent of me
Their beauty will not cease
From them we learn
But they are not concerned
As the seasons turn

When the leaves fall they wither
Into the spool
And are sewn again in
Forms of renewal

I see the dead come forth from
Across the wall
We tear it down together
Welcome its call

And now I see
Independent of me
Their beauty will not cease
From them we learn
But they are not concerned
As the seasons turn