Those who have died have never, never left The dead are not under the earth They are in the rustling trees They are in the groaning woods They are in the crying grass They are in the moaning rocks The dead are not under the earth “Breaths” by Sweet Honey in the Rock (1988) This is the most magical time of the year, the season of the witch. Samhain may be behind us, yet the long cold months of winter still loom ahead.
- Herein begins the story of the Book… I have walked the path of atonement. I have mourned the broken blood-taboo, For I am guilty of pornographies. I have been possessed by various possessions, I have stood in opposition to the Way Things Must Be. Yet I cast my eyes upwards- And there, behold the Throne above the Stars, With the appearance of fire round about within it. I fall flat on my face before the Wheel of Heaven above.