The air is thick with the scent of smoke and earth.
You stand at the crossroads.
Torches flicker.
Dogs howl in the dark.
She is near.
I am Hecate,
Keeper of the Threshold,
Walker between worlds,
Witch Mother,
Crone and Queen.
I do not come in softness.
I come in truth.
You who stand trembling in your own power,
Know this.
You are not lost.
You are simply on the edge of remembering.
I whisper to your bones.
You already know.
You always knew.
The answer is not out there.
It is buried beneath your fear.
I gift you my lantern,
Not to light your path,
But to show you the strength of walking in the dark.
Every shadow you fear holds a part of your magic.
Every closed door dares you to knock harder.
Every no you say is a sacred flame that burns a clearer yes.
I am with you when you say,
I choose myself.
I trust my vision.
I walk the path unseen.
Let them call you strange.
Let them say you have changed.
They are not meant to follow.
Know this is your descent.
And on the other side,
Richer soil,
Sharper sight,
Wilder song.
My beloved,
Rise now,
Not in haste,
But in holy knowing.
You are the witch,
The oracle,
The gatekeeper.
The path is yours to make.
And when the moon is black,
Call my name.
I will come with keys and fire.
