Often was I warned of walking your ways, all men said you’d end my days.
Mother of ravens, mother of night, I seek thee now with all of my might.
Lady of magic, the phantom Queen, lead me now in my dreams. Unto your side and unto your will, Queen of the aethers my heart fill!
Heaven’s Queen and mistress in hell, hear my words and hear them well. Be I chosen by your hand to die this day, that will be, come as it may.
You who know the hearts of men, seeker of right, o’er moors and fens. Listen now unto my voice, I find your gaze and I rejoice.
Come oh lady dark and fair, come ye lady of the raven hair. Here I shall await for thee, lady come to set me free!
Silvered, circled glass, ringed by places high, as fine a place to live as to bide.
An eye to stare unto the aether and endless spaces, moved by moon-tide and kissed by whispered winds alone.
Beneath the glass lies who knows what may, iris by light and pupil black at dark of day. Glamours to charm and beasts by droves to slay.
Lost and by all time forgot, all the deeds of Lords begot, the wending depth-bound way hither conjures my thought this day.
In clear waters to forget of rage and woes, to find again my way to gentler roads, to twine thought with stream and become as one and pass as it may go. Flowing back unto glories past and foretold.
Every day I reach to find the tumbling words of Imbass within my fickle mind.
But the day before twas burning bright, yet now the flame is dim beyond my sight.
I stumble and misread, the embers that are reluctant to rise unto my most desperate need.
Far I search for flint and steel, the broken light within to tend and heal.
But Imbass comes not at my behest, nor at the end of a long and fruitless quest. Rather rises the flame only at the lady’s bequest.
I bide the days by oak, circle and tide, I wander wither I am bid. Perchance upon a day to find the high house whither the copper cauldron of endless inspiration be hid and thus to at last bind, for once and all, my fickle mind.