Hecate, the greek goddess of the crossroads, the gibbet, and ghosts |
Do you know where you are? Wandering blearily about in a dream You have stumbled into the realm of eternal dusk- Her realm. The ghosts are all around you now. Listen to the sound of the rain Pattering through dank autumnal leaves. It begins to sound like the incessant whispering Of lost souls, pleading. An owl hoots nearby, causing your flesh To crawl. Laughter, across the way. She is very near now. Your eyes half closed; You follow Her path without knowing Why. There comes a creaking sound, You look up, Crying out in horror. (A hanged man, swaying gently back and forth, in the spiced breeze… his face a rictus of pain, picked out by the moon’s harsh light.) Helpless, you continue toward him, Blackbirds picking busily at his organs, And tears are running freely down your face. You are very near now. Bells jangle, discordant sounds… They fill you with tranquility, Even as your ears begin to bleed. Laughter again, evil and sweet, very near now. A name is whispered, softly. Your name. You begin to shiver uncontrollably, You have stepped into the center. The crossroads. The ground beneath your feet is stained A faded crimson. So many lives have been taken, given; exchanged. You kneel in the ochre dust Just as Her shadow blots out the starlight. She touches your hair with a cold, cold hand. Do you dare to look upon her visage? You can smell her now; charnal house reek and blown roses. (Her smile, blinding. A sickle as bright as the orb above. Her eyes, vacant yet full of dark knowledge.) Weeping now, you lift your face sky-ward, And feel the cold bite of steel… It penetrates your skin; Yet you feel no pain, as you gaze into her eyes. You see all the infinite nights that have passed; Witness all of the secrets of the wood and field. You see death in a million guises; And love in a million faces. She gives you madness freely, You are drugged with her wisdom. As you fade away, the owl hoots again, a mournful sound. Your blood dripping slowly, soaks into the hallowed ground. Runes form; the future sinking. You giggle, the sound becoming very distant. You laugh, and yet you can't remember why. You see nothing but mist, and you know that you are fragile. You realise that you are lost; and you no longer care. She whispers; 'There is beauty in madness; it whispers seductively in the darkness.' Close your eyes now. Fall slowly into Her arms. The owl hoots from out of that darkness; once, twice, a final time. She sighs softly, satisfied. |