

Song of SamhainFalls the stroke upon His head, In Her lap the God lies dead; But in Her belly it will quicken: Seed of He that lies there stricken.Song of Samhain
My strength waxes; the Light Half wanes, I feel the dark of the moon in my veins; The starlight falls upon my skin, A thousand pricks with a fiery pin.
Welling up, the throb of power Swells my throat this midnight hour. Nightingale, slay the Lark, And sing the beauty of the Dark.
Moonrise blooming o'er my face Imbues me with its eerie grace; At last the Light releases me, I am ascendant, I am free! &nbs
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