| Beyond the valley of the silence
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| along the paths of ancient knowledge
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| led from the dense odours of the wind.
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| You will find yourself in the holy wood
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| consecrated to the primordial gods.
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| Baptized with the dew around the oak of this Wiccian’s mass
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| celebrated from the warbling of the crows, og great mother moon.
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| Ishtar, Astarte, Inanna, let me feed at your breast
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| let me celebrate the fertile union of the horned god
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| with the pure white goddess.
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| Follow the call of the wood.
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| Follow the voice of the god.
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| Celebrate in the Nemeton with red candles
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| and autumnal flowers on the stone altar.
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| Dress yourself with the sky in the magic circle
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| and purify yourself with the sacred incense of Cernunnos.
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| Bless me mother, 'cause I am your son.
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| Blessed be my eyes, therefore I can find your way.
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| Blessed be my nose, therefore I can breath your essence.
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| Blessed be my mouth, therefore I can talk about you.
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| Blessed be my chest, therefore I can be faithful to you.
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| Blessed be my ancestry, therefore I can give life to men and women.
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| as you gave life to the universe.
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| Blessed be my feet, therefore I can follow your way. |