Needless Things: Deathly Rituals

In the circle drawn by ash and bone, Where whispers coil in undertone, We call thee forth, O shrouded flame, By blood, by breath, by forgotten name.

The moon hangs still in silent dread, A pale eye watching all we’ve said— And every word, a binding thread To stir the spirits of the dead.

Candles flicker with no wind, As ancient sins are called and pinned. The air grows thick with memory’s weight, As time dissolves the hands of fate.

We offer salt, we spill the wine, We scratch the glyph, we cross the line. The veil is thin, the gate swings wide— Come forth, come near, from the other side.

No prayer shall break what we begin, No light may cleanse the dark within. For what is summoned shall remain, Bound in shadow, blood, and chain.

So mark this rite with solemn breath, A hymn for life, a kiss of death. And when the silence fills the air, Know—something answers every prayer. NNN