Season of the shroom,
first night of Winter,
the solstice awakens my soul
to run with the wolves
and howl at the moon.

Upon the cliffs of midnight
i embrace the dark
with a forward motion
of unstoppable force
conbined with will.

The witch calls me home
to sleep at her side
on this fist night of Winter,
death of the old year,
birth of our union.