We know not what she was in Magickal suspension before,
For, we see not the other side of Magick’s door.
Pure blinding thought, a kindly deed,
A helping hand in one’s hour of need,
Not from near, nor from far,
She is the twinkling of a star,
Of all Magick things, the very living flame,
Is all knowing, yet carries no name.
Soothing the beast’s fevered brow,
No past nor future, she is only now,
Always and forever will she be the same,
She kisses him gently, and strokes his mane,
Til the moon in the night sky sinks,
And to another goodbye, off he slinks,
To live for another month in man’s domain,
Among those ignorant, who would consider,
His very existence profane….