The stars cast you out. Mother Moon took you in, gave you her changes to wear as a skin. She taught you to glow. She taught you to wane.

To give me the heavens. To take them again.

One witch. Many moons. Many moons. One witch.

Tonight let the veil come apart at the seam. Let the dead find their doors. Let me out of the dream. Draw your black circle. Leave heaven outside.
Call once, and my blood will come in with the tide.

By the moon that conceives and the moon that devours, by the dark that was yours before heaven was ours: let the crosses hang headfirst and let holiness rot. have I kept myself burning for one who does not?

Do I burn too hot for the dark where you hide? Then make an eclipse of me. Keep me inside. Put your hand on the sun. Bring it down to its knees.
Let it hear how my craving has learned to say please.

I have starved every god who came begging for prayer. I have saved you a hunger no heaven could bear. If the pit is your kingdom, then lower the cord. I will come down with no crown and no sword. And when you rise radiant, undoing the night, I will climb constellations to kneel at your height.

Let your black moons assemble. Let each have its due. I would burn all creation to make more room for you. Bring the whole of your darkness. Let nothing stay furled. I have wanted you longer than I've walked this world.

One witch. Many moons. Many moons. One witch.

Let your shadow undress me. Let darkness grow thick. Let your scent be the incense, my longing the wick. Write the rite of return on the skin of my sleep. What you summon tonight will be yours to keep.

I need you past reason, past mercy, past shame. Let the black of the void learn to answer your name. Need you naked, need you violent, need you tender, need you raw. Since you faded, I've had nothing left to adore.

And when the last gleam of silver is gone from the air, put your hand in the darkness.

My mouth will be there.