In the dark of need,
where shadows are found,
an emotion stirs, raw and untamed.
Hekate is called upon
as intent sharpens, as eyes narrow,
as desire is carved from the deep marrow.
Leave, she thinks.
Crafted in silence,
language twists and bends,
pared down to a single sentence,
a secret whisper, a breath caught in the throat.
Leave, she whispers.
From lines drawn,
creation takes form,
a symbol born of darkness.
Whittled down to bare essence,
a sigil is born.
Visualize, let it grow,
a fire in the mind's eye,
heat rising,
purify the vision,
cleanse it in stillness,
as tension coils, taut, waiting.
Leave, she calls.
Light the flame,
circle drawn in the smoke,
concentration wrapped tight,
focus honed to a point.
In the rapture of intent,
the burning begins,
a le petit mort of purpose,
the ashes dance,
released to the crossroads of forgetfulness.
Leave, she gasps.
And in the silence that follows,
the result wanders,
a shadow, a whisper,
a darkened echo of the need...
seeking its mark in the void.
Leave... Its only charge.
Jill Spangler is a poet, tarot reader, and retired interior designer currently writing her first book. An esotericist drawn to earth magick and the study of soul lessons, her work reflects a deep connection to nature and the unseen. Jill shares her home with a gentle giant, two feline familiars—mirrors of light and shadow—and a watchful, jealous border collie. Connect with Jill at @lunas_familiar
