| Feel the breeze on my face
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| The icy breath of the Goddess
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| I raise my hand and touch the illusion
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| My mind is powerful and my Ego is high
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| As the mountain in front of me
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| Clouds run fast and silence comes
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| From the Fronds of the Ancient Walnut:
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| No scents, no odors, no sounds, no laments;
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| The cold vanishes…
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| I get all the colors all around me
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| And I see the enchanting dance of the branches:
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| It is the Walnut calling the witches
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| It is our dream voyaging through the aethyr
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| What was not becomes reality
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| I am the deer running to the Sabbath!
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| I am the crow which observes the silence!
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| I am the craftsman of myself…
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| Therefore I praise the Horned and the Great Mother!
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| And where the wind blows, at the mercy of the oneiric
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| It is the touch of the world’s spirits
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| Which enhances my magic
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| Mind’s spreading, faint voices chant at the moon
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| The silvering light of Levanah penetrates the unconscious
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| And revives the Ancient Knowledge
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| I take flight, the dance is over
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| Now we are the deer returning from the Sabbath!
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| Now we are the crow which contemplated the silence!
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| Now we are the craftsmen of ourselves…
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| Therefore we praise the Horned and the Great Mother! |