The Morrigan

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!


Roses born of earth and seed, a sight to gladden any bitter heart. In all my life this truth have I learned, never should the love of a simple rose be spurned.

 The perfect and imperfect petals, each grown and nourished at need. All a gift of unique and sublime art, every one made from the Lady’s grace to turn and smile back upon the sun’s shining face.

I’ll take my imperfect roses any day, to charm and and gladden my love in every way, I shall at her feet, all my roses lay.

I’ll take the thorns and petals both, the stems be hard, wooden, a long and hard won growth.

For such is life my dear, perfection merely blinds us to seeing beauty clear.

The round.

Come now and ring the cauldron round, here where secrets be told and truth be found.

Bar the line with salt from the sea, sweep the floor with a switch cut from a blasted wormwood tree. Sing the chant to close the way and on to see what is, was, and come as it may.

In the centre place the cauldron, scrubbed and blessed until it shines. Fill it to the brim with goodly herbs and finest wines. Dance the step aright, and ware of withershins, this is where the night’s magic begins.

In the shadows sway and prance, by the flicker-flame entranced. Be thee merry and be thee free. By the stars above let your pain off to fly, let go the holds that bind you. Let flow your tears and cry.

In the step find the grace, look upon the lady’s own fair face. Terrible and beautiful as the world in which she lives, hope and hate, light and dark all are the gifts she gives.

Take the bell and swing it round, that all who hear be blessed by its sound.

Now round again, the final pace, close the circle as it was opened, with love and will and no selfish desire base. Long hallowed may be this place.

Lay aside the bell and switch.

Know you are whole.

Lo and behold.

You are a witch.

A prayer upon the shores.

Shores of the holy lake stretch afore. I hear the Glaston bells upon that isle that now stands in place of the misty land of Avalon.

The land of apples by the mists taken far. 

Realm of the goddess with all her people in tow. Whence into the fey with all her people did you fly? By secret words and names hard cried, may I call you again the live in peace at the Chappel’s side.

Stony ring upon the tor, well would I walk the sacred way once more. The spiral winding path, the open sky my love, the very earth be the goddess altar room and floor.

Call the eldritch lightnings and the hiding mist be shorn, bring again the ancient oak to challenge Joseph’s staff-grown thorn.

Upon the glass-ringed Isle let the truth be brought to fore, though mightier was the iron cross in battle yet ever the bronzed cauldron may endure. For ever as the earth we lay, beneath beyond and below deep within all that lives and loves and grows. Though we be cut down, we heal and rise and grow.

Again let druid and monk share the sacred grove and shore, as once we did before the folly of men brought the path spirit before the flawed throne of men.

Goddess Ceridwen, lady and mother of us all, listen King among the stags with woad and antlered brow, let my words come to truth, listen light and shadow now unto my call. Part for us the veil, free us from the iron thrall, lady by your art raise the grey stone ring that might never truly fall.

There among the mist, rise now either black barge or pendragon’s funeral pall, let either come bedecked in garlands rich as a feasting hall. Let come the spring of Awen and Imbass past the long and bitter hold of winter frost and fall.

An if I find thee not within this life, once reborn again shall I seek your face. Ever my heart feels the fairy muted call, I shall come some time, at my wayward lagard pace unto thee oh Avalon, resting there in that close and far-off place.

Judge me as a pagan.

Judge me not upon your terms my love. I am paganborn and not of the white cloth’s staid and quiet fold.

That which I desire, I freely praise and raise and whistle to admire.

Your shapely hip, high bourne breast, the white of your skin and all the rest. This be but the truth, why would I lie?  I admire these things even as I love your merry voice starry eyes.

I will not bring you flowers dear, I shall bring you honeyed mead, I’ll make no empty promises love but I shall hunt and fill the pantry your every need to feed.

No palace can I offer you, merely my own-built home there among the stones and stands of yew. Tis no grand thing my love but beauteous in the morning dew. There for all my life would I wake to you.

I have no riches but that which my hands may make. I am a simple man, I wish merely to care for you and goddess willing sons and daughters upon your whim to wake.

Judge me not my dear, for seeming strange and crood. For my love be honest before all the gods and the land. Upon my knee I ask my love, pledge me now your heart and troth and hand?

I wait for you at Avalon.

The mist and tide of Avalon.  Lost road between the fey and here. There will you find me, waiting still for you my dear.

The olden ways they beckon me, the goddess ruling all an the lord of oak holding sway through summer spring and fall.

Lighted is the forest path for me by her divine grace. I see her in you, in your fair and loving face. I see her in your form, all the wanton lust and noise of a brewing thunder storm.

I long for you lady so, by the stream and standing stone. I keep forevermore my faith with you though frail and old my bones are grown.

Come the time and rule of thorn, I stand still by the stone my dear, never shall I be foresworn. I await you patiently, your coming shall be a blessed morn.

I hear your feet upon the path, to bring the joy of Imbass to my heart and soul at last.

Blessed be my lady dear, merry met and blessed be. Long and through the hardest times hath I awaited you yet you kept your faith with me.

Merry met lady mine and blessed be.

hic omnes tibi est.

All of this is for you.

All of this is yours. 

From the dawning light to distant shores. Deeply have you dared my love awaken, freely offered and freely taken. 

All this world I’ll give to you. From cloud and sky to bladed grass and dew unto snowbound mountain spire.

All within my reach is yours. Upon our meeting my broken sword I laid at your feet. My troth I wrote for you upon a virgin vellum sheet.

All the roses of the world be yours and all the fragrant blossoms too, though they pale beside your beauty and your perfect flaws.

Guardian I will stand while you peaceful sleep, I’ll bring low aught that dares make you weep.

Lift you from the darkling fires and the burning chains that bind. Though the doing be my end and break my mind.

My home is yours to keep, for I never saw it’s emptiness until I knew it’s lack of you.

By my hearth shall you never hunger. I shall provide, your stalwart hunter. Sheltered safe from frost and thunder, embraced within the circle of my arms.

By wit and strength and word from you I’ll ward away all the world’s many harms.