Drawn Down

Bristle my skin,
With the sight of you.
Oak and ash,
Willow and yew.

I lift my chalice,
In skyclad rite,
To touch your face,
And draw down your light.

Be still wind,
Hold now light,
Calm ye tide,
Earth pause tonight.

Here comes she,
Mother of all.
With beacons set,
I echo out my call.
Hush the land,
Blot out the sky.
There is naught,
But you and I.

Take me up,
My sacred lover,
My beloved sister,
My eternal mother.

On this sacred earth,
On this sacred night,
Let magic enchant,
Our sacred rite.

By: Greg Currie
July 5, 2009