(no subject)
When the Dark comes rising, six shall turn it back;
Three from the circle, three from the track;
Wood, bronze, iron; water fire stone;
Five will return and one go alone.
Iron for the birthday, bronze carried long;
Wood from the burning, stone out of song;
Fire in the candle-ring, water from the thaw;
Six Signs the circle, and the grail gone before.
Fire on the mountain shall find the harp of gold
Played to wake the Sleepers oldest of the old;
Power from the green witch, lost beneath the sea;
All shall find the light at last, silver on the tree.
I think I'm inspired, yet utterly depressed.