Summer country floods with sea.
Bog and forest overflow—
Mabon's Eve.
Through the mirror pool you see
Rupture of the path you thought
Was to be.
Midwinter he'll find you,
Gold snakes to remind you
The lives you lived before still bind you.
Victim of your husband's will,
Bruises coat your goosebumped arms—
Saturn's chill.
But if your vision's proven real
Someone else is meant for you,
By Fortune's wheel
Midwinter he'll find you,
Gold snakes to remind you,
The lives you lived before still bind you
Ancient islands sinking!
Crone of the Old Religion!
Death knell ring!
Clouds crash through the hills like waves.
Tired of awaiting fate—
Fortune's slave.
You seek him in the spirit plane
Give your husband up to him:
Captor slain.
Midwinter you take him.
Hands trembling, you make him
Sire of the once and future king
