Ancient Ways - Karyn Crisis' Gospel Of The Witches

In the scratches of the diamonds, and the screams of the ravens,

and the tumbling of the stones, I learn the rituals and old ways:

light the fire, sound the bells, move the smoke, salt the shells,

coil the light,

spread the cards, braid the twine, travel inward…

In the smoky wisps of incense, and the whispers of the branches

and the DNA of bones, I learn the rituals and old ways:

light the fire, sound the bells, move the smoke, salt the shells,

call them forth, raise the power, cut the air, burn the cauldron.

TANA TANUS JANA JANUS ARISHAM TRUTUS SATUR MENSUS

TANA TANUS JANA JANUS KIRAHM VENU THERA SILVUS

AS ABOVE SO BELOW

Wisdom of the bone, blessings of the blood, messenger+serpent, travelling below.

On the river black, moon+stars above, walking on the tombs of ancestors below.

They take my hands, palms to palms, they give me maps,

lines in my hands, a path to guide my way.

Cut away the flesh, peeling past the

veins,

whittle at the bone, I’m seeing past the grave.

In the rusted nails and charcoal, and the shattered glass and damp, cold soil.

In the roots of the trees, I learn the rituals and old ways:

light the fire, sound the bells, move the smoke, salt the shells,

coil the light, spread the cards, braid the twine, travel inward.