frail fires to the sky
to cover the cries of the moon;
as bitter tears drown in blood
a burning flood adorns the gloom

pour water on thyself
for drastic seasons are at hand
no law or limit do they know
and only rule by blood and lead

carve a wide circle out of dust,
let havoc churn the heather;
and may the way of the arcane unfold
as the high moon will wither...


'chant the spell and be it done'
is this your magic
wounded one?