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A menacing wind harrows the steppe

Hot like the breath of the pack on the hunt

The elders prepare the elixir

In the shadow of the ancient ones

Key to the mouth of the serpent

And the slithering caverns of the world below

Moonlight smiles on the arcane ritual

And I have never been more ready

To be reborn in the realm of death

Blind again and wailing in the arms of the Headless Mother

A canid wraith stands across the writhing gulf

Glowering eyes like black stars that light the path beyond

My hair is of his color and I feel it sprouting from my limbs

Claws erupting from beneath my nails

I look out across the water now

And see only my reflection

Fangs and fur like the Blackbrush above

The moon has never been so bright

Like the witch flower that wakes at dusk

My beheaded mother in whose sinuous arms I rest

Nocturnal, in communion with the dead

And now I know the gruesome joy

With which they laugh at night