Born of the fury of midwinter snows,
forged in the passion of midwinter flame,
I stand, Queen of the Heavens of Winter.
Crownèd not in the gaudy magnificence of gold –
belovèd of the foolish and greedy –
I shimmer instead in the stardust of silver,
that most mystical magickal metal of man,
mind cold as the moon but a heart –
cursèd heart! –
as gentle and warm as the tropic blue waters
that gave birth to life;
armed not with steel but a wand of the rowan.
Gliding through the wheel of the rolling year,
I do not melt as icèd winter dissolves into spring
nor evaporate as spring is devoured in the hot jaws
nor trickle away into the autumn earth
carpeted with the souls of trees,
for, wrapped in my midnight blue shawl
decked with stars,
adorned with the pearls of the tears of the world,
lips bloodied with the crimson of dismembered hearts,
it is always the season of this witch.
© 2013 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved
My autobiography in the realm of magick.