The Cauldron: A Pagan Forum

Having long seen such scheming intentions unraveled
One can clearly see through your lies
Never once setting foot on the paths we have traveled
Seemingly far, yet near as the crow flies

An acrid stench, the cauldron fires smolder
Poison smoke, Upas ladles, tinged ingredients unknown
Uncomfortably near, but much more colder
White marble temples, those bloodstained altars of stone

From these dark wooded hills, this carefully tossed curse
Paleolithic sorcery you cannot understand
Not even when written in your language and put into verse
Ancient streams flowing into the wasteland

Seeing not our most sacred fires being lit
Obscured by long forgotten ages and your bright city lights
Within their glow our hunting sorcerers sit
While you are stalked in strange dreams on summer nights