Softly slipping, echoes dripping
&nbsp down hollow, empty walls.
Bats once fleeing, hide now seeing
&nbsp the future shadows call.

Within Her grace, in this dark place,
&nbsp the children saw it be.
How could they know, what came would go,
&nbsp beneath the Raven Tree.

Lost in stasis, hidden places,
&nbsp a word within a Wyrd.
A whispered plea, in hope, to She,
&nbsp to one day be revered.

Dark thoughts recoil, beneath the soil,
&nbsp slipping from the shadows
In rattling bones, amidst the groans
&nbsp of forgotten heroes.

Cauldrons smoulder, wits grow bolder,
&nbsp terror in the new moon.
A sliding scale, as notes unveil
&nbsp lessons learned of true gloom.

Drums are beating, covens meeting
&nbsp in the great Glomdoring.
A Daughter cries, and all arise,
&nbsp rescuers come roaring.

A bloody fray, as dusk taunts day,
&nbsp enemies lie sprawling.
Glorious night absolves the light
&nbsp as the dark comes calling.