---

In the meadow of my darkest powers

Where realms collide, where spectral energies flow free,

In the borderlands between the outer woods

And the entangled thickets of the inner landscape,

Let the ritual begin!



I tread the mill.

In an oneironautic state of consciousness,

Strange doors open, weird pathways are being laid out

As I tread the mill.

Backwards, ever round and round,

In the meadow of my darkest powers I tread the mill



By broom, stang, cauldron, and familiar spirits.

By the elements, by the tidal forces of the earth.

By the crown, the stem, and the root.

By earth and blood and bone, I tread the mill.



I sink, and I rise above the profanities of mundane directions

As I become part of the current, the constant ebb and flow

Of the timeless oceans of energies between the worlds.

I dive deep into the otherworldly soil, among the roots.



Towards my innermost truth.

A pulsating glow within a crystal sphere of spectral energies

A I tread the mill.



Spells most powerful will be woven here tonight.