Threaded am I,
Part of a greater fabric twisting this world together.
Hands of death weave me between strands of life.
A tool in the grip of a master,
Child’s play for an eternal Queen.
A Queen that waits for no man,
But only for the soft whispering of Gaia herself.
As do I beneath a sinking sun and rising moon,
With bone reknit and flesh newly grown I walk again.
My name upon a stone,
As I stand beside my overgrown grave.
Here in a circle of candlelight,
My soul dancing with the flame’s delight.
Hiss of breath and kiss of life,
Blood of innocence spilled tonight.
Remember I so scorned by love,
Come back to right this sinful wrong.
Forget not this name upon thy brow,
And tremble before these marked palms.
Each bearing a symbol of the untold,
Licked by forked tongues so pierced.
Know the world is changing by Gaia’s hand,
And now I must complete the Unsound’s plan.
Crackle forth a song from beneath this ground.
And sing with sisters through coven’s found,
For I am a VVitch,
The VVitch Amelia.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.
If you’d like to read more darker writings from the Ink Owl follow the link and enjoy!