“Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires”. – William Shakespeare
My love, my love your all I ever see.
My heart beats in my ear, my eye will not see shadow, or color near. Oh, thought you have left me, tongue you cannot cry or speak. For I am a lost, consumed by faire fire and light, devoured by the craft of those sounds that cannot speak. And I must know you….
By the witch’s gate, in the sea of reeds, breath of female love, gives me mystery. Oh, you are the stars of Babylon, with your eyes so green, mother to our magic children, born from matter drawn from we. On the salty tides, with a crown of leaves. On the grace that brings a shutter, let me fall upon one knee. Let me go forth now, pronounce my love of all of thee. By the oath of love, I bring my seed in thee, until this life has passed, then on eternally. By thy olive hand, waves a mystery, under this canopy of stars, starts the life that we will be. By the sworn oath, by the earned destiny. By the growing clouds and circles, trouble cometh, bare it all with me. By the witch’s gate, I marry thee. By the witch’s gate, let sovereign be.
By a song of praise, inside a seal of stone and weed. Comes now a silent witness of a world unseen. Be it he or she, we bend ourselves to thee. Something gifted by hosts of angels, finds a place in we. Forge it a gift to me, I give it back a seed. Know you now my treasure, better than breathe in me. That November moon, seen by a swamp tree, has a bite gone, from its periphery. Bended bands on hands show imperfectibly. So is our life defined, dark messengers cry to blessed be. By the witch’s gate, I marry thee. By the witch’s gate, let sovereign be.
Shadows move, to clear the fog away, some humidity decides to stay. Open now far heavens guide us here by the witch’s gate. Our lives together bound by only what we take. Oh, this fire does clear the gloom, takes us on toward better to a different moon. Clearer than, man-made prophecy. My love, my love your all I ever see. Praise the ties that bind us, mother from her wound. What we weave. By the witch’s gate, I marry thee. By the witch’s gate, let sovereign be.
My heart beats in my ear, my eye will not see shadow, or color near. Oh, thought you have left me, tongue you cannot cry or speak. For I am a lost, consumed by faire fire and light, devoured by the craft of those sounds that cannot speak. And I must know you by the witch’s gate.
For Susan. My love, my love your all I ever see. – 11.30.21 – דָנִיֵּאל