The Witches of Bernheim

 Sleepless shade...

Of endless burden

Rain wash away-

My mourning Birch skin,

Dripping Elms

Torched and smoken

Twigs laid about

Amongst a dying coven

Rinse the dirt, 

from the painted cowen

Stand before the crone

For the tithing omen.

Judgement passes near

From the eyes of a stone head

Mildew leaves wetten

Singed, en' aroma;

The circle hath swept

Seeds of last Autumn

Torches made from cane

For the mossen Elken Fauna.

The Stags silhouette

In the Fogline of the Flora.

A dancing piroette

To the Sabbaths eerie sonnet.

Under lunar orbs that bled

Wicker men will then be mounted,

A pact with devils made; Obeyed.

Claimed by: 

Christened King's Confounded,

Gossip spread, towns ill dread

Whispered by a Countess.

Skies awoke

and we envoke

the shadows of our

Craftwork.

Drowned within the charcoal mist

Unhallowed spirit in this flesh 

Wafted stench of cremains; Ashen

In its graves of nine dimensions.

Lamented upon the chalice

No throne nor stole can hold

A power of three, a charm, a herb

An element , or a Loa.

Bewitch us in a nite

Under skies firey globes.

Antlers snarl a sigh

Missed by the hunters arrow

Nasil breath; Exhaled the drip.

creatures called out to the burrows

The ground awoke its cries envoke 

In the psalms of a sparrow.

Malice'd heart turned harden dead

Idle human in the meadow

It stood afoot, on the Witches root

In the woods of the Cypress.