Sharp-tongued, bad-tempered,
Baleful with knowledge,
Ambitious witch,
A fervent desire burns in her eyes.
With charms written backwards,
She gives us long tasks.

We perform.
It’s her will.

We sit at the cauldron stirring dark liquids
As moons chase sun after sun from the hills.

The cauldron is split.
She screams in her fury.
Vicious elixir spills out on the land
Poisoning horses,
Parching the lake.
All of her wishes taken from her.

Disappointed, tyrannical mother,
Who spurs on her children, as if to their ruin,
Giving, by this, the magical spark
The three precious drops
Bright knowledge and wisdom
Three drops to shine in the pitiless dark.

For this she will chase you.
Chase you through dreams.
There is no escape from her dark self-esteem

Turning to meet her, tired of the race,
Looking the dark hag straight in the face
My eyes newly opened
I see there another
A goddess
A mother
Spinning a wheel and harvesting grace.

Beneath her dark robes is a glimmering brightness,
A fire that transforms, ignites and inspires.
Her curse marks the path to all of her blessings
And opens the way to visions of light
At the heart of this beautiful chalice of night.