Craft of the Wise

The craft of the wise my old favorite friend,
Ill practice at night, till the moon shine blends.
Altar of stone, candles of black,
Guidance from the gods each calling back.
My pentacle I hold dearly, close to my heart,
As I reach for the sky where the clouds spread apart.
Forever I Pray to the ancients who still live,
The ones who speak to me with the guidance they give.
Protection and Peace I have called upon time,
Listening much and speaking in rhyme.
Together I stand with the Goddess who peers,
with wisdom and knowledge through the undying years.
As A witch I Pray for those who have died, on the stakes they were burned screaming alive.
Hung by the noose and stoned till bones crushed, I weep under moonlight in silence and hush.
Casting the circle I call fourth the quarters Earth, Air and Fire and never ending Water. I can feel the earth trembling and the wind picking up, while rain falls from the sky and the Goddess Speaking up.
Saying my name as she casts down a light, Granting me wisdom under full moonlight.
I stand in the Circle with hands held high,in search of all truth that wishes to hide.
At the end of my rite I finish the goal,
As above and So below be the written swords soul.

Blessed Be~
My First Wiccan Poem :)