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Treading the Mill

Bare toes push into the soil,
Round, round, we tread the mill,
Stang drags the ground and plows the earth,
Round, round, the Horned One stirs,
Summons rattle from our chest,
Round, round, the Mother sings,
Sweating, prancing, widdershins,
Round, round, balefire warms our skin,
Glossed with fat and poison plants,
Round, round, in dark we dance,
The world spins as we tread the mill.
Written by MykosFemme
Published
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