Scrying with the Black Oak

Oh ancient Black Mirror upon my wall.

Of this World you show me nothing at all.

 Yet in your magick face I see the in between.

The hidden World that to most is never seen.

 And to me your visions are always true.

The ways of the future that will come due.

 For scrying is a dark and dangerous art.

Not for those of the New Faith or faint of heart.

 On your surface this world's light does fall.

Only to come out in some dark Hell's hall.

 All I know is that for sure, in your eye is a portal to the mind.

And with your help the spirts of the netherworld I call and bind.

 By Candle Book and Bell the Magick words I do tell.

With Blade and Blood in the circle of salt I have cast my spell.

 Come forth my little pretties from your frozen hell.

Do my bidding and in my service you may dwell

For I am the dark Oak that walkith among man always in the white cloak

Master from the Dark Deep Woods and upon my soul is no King or God's Yoke.

 The Druid King

Copyright 03-07-2012 George King