When the light knew darkness,
Darkness knew light,
Her spirit never forsaken,
Quietly she waited in the stillness of night,
Knowing the spirit of her warriors
Would someday awaken.

Forced to retreat, subjugate their will,
To hide in the stillness of night,
Overcome by darkness,
A division occurred,
Separation of darkness and light,

Secretly, silently blanketed by night,
Anxiously awaiting the rise of their Queen,
They called to the quarters with athame in hand,
Instinctively hiding in shadows
Lest they be seen.

Upon waxing, then full, waning of light,
Homage paid by light of the moon,
In the silent stillness and darkness of night,
They honored their Goddess.
Sacred Queen of the rune.

Blessed are they,
Who had the courage to dare,
To bare the depths of their soul,
Who hid in the darkness,
By light of the moon,
To pay homage,
To maiden, mother, and crone.

Blessed are they,
Who held sacred,
The secrets of ancient wise,
Who dared to keep holy,
The pagan ways,
Who prevented,
A Wiccan demise.

Blessed are they
Warriors of Wicca,
Who hid in the darkness of night,
Who paved the way for present day witches,
To step from the shadows and into the light.

Copyright 2009