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Rated: · Poetry · Occult · #1273846
A short spellbinding poem.
The athame lay at her feet,
A crimson chord, bound at her waist,
Hanging down a cloak so sleek.

A chalice in her hand she gripped,
The incense through her mind then slipped.
Ritual candles, flames ablaze,
Her mind wandering through the ritual maze.

The silver sword placed on the altar,
Along with salt and purified water.
God and Goddess observing proud,
The keeper of this magical shroud.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1273846-The-Ritual