by M Teresa Clayton
by M Teresa Clayton
Stir the cauldron, mix it well so the souls we stole won’t come back to tell of the monstrous sights that roam at night, that awful fright that sealed the spell and damned them all to that burning hell.
Set the fire to a scalding blaze and stand behind the ashen circle with your hands raised. No god comes near, no words of praise, just their screams in fear and their fixed gaze. The time has come to inhale the smoke of the witch’s weed. The choke comes as your mind is freed. Off with your cloak! Let us now proceed. Dance and join hands, ‘tis not just chance that commands, all are joined together as one and soon these tethers will come undone.
No longer bound by bone and skin, bid the flame of the fire, “come in”. Let is consume you and pleasure you without bounds. Lie down with the fire on the hard cold ground. Let the flames lick you wherever you desire and release that lustful pleading sound. “More” cried out into the air. “Fill me, consume me, spread me everywhere. The bodies writhe in ecstasy, filled with lust as their pleasures come to me and leave them spent beneath the settling dust.
I open my legs to let them in; feel the lustful wanting churn, now the dance takes a wicked turn as the fire inside of me begins to burn. I am filled with your desires, quench your thirst and feed the fires. Pass the chalice so that all can awaken, your lust was the power that has been taken and now resides inside of me; will now bring my own ecstasy.\
Stir the cauldron, call them to rise and step away from the boil. Call them to rise and plant their feet upon the soil. They are cleansed from these evil deeds. Their emanations have become the seeds that will sate the witch beneath Ostara’s moon. Many are they from these ejaculations that feed the needs and now incubate, the children bequeathed and now lie beneath the cold hard ground until that splendid date when they will rise and again we will all commune ‘neath the darkened skies.