Keys and crossroads,
In the secrets of two torch's flames,
Are mysterious codes
Even Zeus fears Her many names.
Obsidian ophidians and onyx wolves scatter,
And become dear guides,
To those She thinks matter.
In a voice like fog She confides,
To Her Witches, Priests, and Priestesses,
Trickles of Her mysteries,
Almost like pages of Her diaries.
I hear the wisdom of Hekate's soul,
Dragons confirm Her ancient truth,
In Her scrying bowl,
She sees me wild and uncouth,
She delights in my dancing to Her song in the center of the Crossroads.