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The High Altar

The High Altar
by Charles E S Fairey

High above on the sandstone edge
An altar of sacred mystery,
Sits about a sacred grove,
Beyond the veil of secrecy.

Where ancient and strange invocations
Are performed throughout the year,
Where echoes of otherworld reality
Dance in unison with occultists here.

Where nature and elementals persist
And Pagan Spirits live on immortal,
This place imbued with magical energy
Where high priests thy coven install.

Initiates learning the mysteries of the Craft
Passing into the realms of the ether nigh,
The raising of thy immortal self
Amongst the stars of the infinite night sky.

Above the Full Moon as sharp as crystal
As chants of ceremony ring through,
Seeking the treasure of thy mystery
If only those in darkness the secrets knew.

Spiraling power and energy
Voices from the trees and stone,
Wonderful and potent tools
About the High Altar below Pan’s Throne.

The aura of the Edge
It’s tempting majesty,
Each prayer and ritual renewing,
Ascending, powering its magical energy.

This holy site of knowledge
Watched over by its Guardian,
The Wild Man of the Woods,
The Green Man’s Great Champion.

Decades have seen witches
Perform their mystical art,
Onlookers tempted to interrupt
And know what’s behind each Wiccan’s heart.

Each year the High Altar
Is blessed, and gifts left for thy Spirit,
Ceremonies played and prayers said,
Incense burned and candles lit.

This is Alderley Edge’s High Altar,
Where Pan sits and watches at times,
Within this natural sacred grove,
Up above the Sun God shines---

And lights each precious day,
While throughout dark night,
Goddess Moon lights the gloom,
To bring the knowledge of the light---

To each Worshipper of the Craft,
Who hopes to ascend to immortal might,
And find their treasure, The Mystery,
Whether it be Day or Night.
 
 
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