Brazen witches fly, legends say,
dark Moon nights; arise, stealthy, silent,
blessed in revelry.
Bonded to Earth’s creation;
learning at mother’s breast
to embrace Her gifts and lessons.
Historic Man may proclaim, may murder
for fealty, to swear allegiance to
their hunt’s command.
They may elevate their One True King
to kneel and obey. They may employ
counting measure, ceremony and sacrifice,
taunting and torture or other trials
thus finding for each loyal swan a pond
to plunder, to parade in royal color,
their place of pride.
Cruelty descends, more master than tactic;
it is the enemy of joy, of flavor,
bonding, works of love and honor.
Meanwhile, mundane men, on real ground,
work companions to soil and rain, engineers
trained to each moment’s urgencies, philosophers
of stone and mud, reason and toil, persist.
Their sinew and bone feed
the ages, build clay and richness on which
Wisdom knows the sweat of practiced movement,
flexible to unexpected obstacles, able to modulate
hushed or loud as the crowd ebbs
or grows in credulity.
Where wisdom seeps through, counters
prevailing poisons, invigorates blood to nourish
minds and hearts, look there for fortuity.
Arise, lovers! Bring forth better days,
ours to play in open revelry,
neighbors enjoying shared labors, wholesome fruit.
Accept truth of magic; imagine life into this world.