Breathe in. Exhale. Breathe.

Are you in here? Are you thinking? Hello, witchling. Breathe.

Do you feel the rain? Do you feel the lightning? There is thunder behind your eyes.

Do you know what this is? Do you know where you are? Hello witchling. Hello.

This is the cry of a newborn babe, left by a rivers bed. This is the screaming of a thousand cicadas at night. This is the endless expanse of the night sky on a dark moon. This isn’t magick. Do you know where you are?

Breathe, witchling. I am not here to harm you.

The cougar kills the deer. The moose tramples the coyote. I am here, offering you a hand. Do you know where you are?

Coil the yarn. Snip the string. Pour the wax into a candle mold. Move your hands, witchling. Breathe.

Hello witchling. Do you know where you are? Do you remember?

This is the dark of a mothers womb. This is the warmth of the heart of a star. The cold expanse of a melting tundra. This is the end. This is the beginning.

Set aside your knitting, put away your paintbrush. Look. This is the un-made, the forever end. This is not magick.

Why did you wander here, witchling? How did you find your way here? No- eyes on me. There is no way to leave this place. You have walked too far.

The chicks follow the duck. The cat eats the pigeon. You are not preparing dinner; you are here, at every beginning and at every end. This is not a magick place.

Come with me.

Author: corvidcraft

What's up! I'm a northern Canadian artist/writer. Poli sci student by education, acrylic painter by passion.

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