Here is a great invocation for the Full Wolf Moon. It can be used anytime wild magick and/or freedom is requested, preferably on a full moon night.
Woman of the moon mist,
Hear me cry
Man of the pack
Master of many
Hear me cry
Darkness surrounds me
Darkness covers me
Cold chains restrain me
Set me free to run with you
Live with you
Feed with you
Let me be my inner self tonight!
And the absence of moonlight,
lying here staring at my ceiling
because I can’t see the sky.
By the dim light of my little leaning
tower of pisa lamp-a tiny plastic architectural wonder,
with its small switch so old and functional-
I didn’t see it coming.
It’s the lunacy
that keeps me wondering how you are,
if you are seeing that moon again tonight, the same one
in the backyard
with the feathery tips of evergreens jabbing into it.
How crazy it was to have spied it together,
when things weren’t so strained.
I think you have me staring at this ceiling
while you stare at the moon.
I think you have lunacy, too.
I want to tell you about a lunatic’s sweetness,
galvanized by her belief that somehow
all this isn’t her fault.
The hour of the dark moon draws near;
I hear the invoking words,
hear and appear
Chthonia, Enodia, Trioditis
I come unto the holy bliss.
Darksome night and silvery moon
East then south then west then north
To thee we sing a witch’s tune
To call the ancient powers forth
Cup for water, airy sword
A pentacle to touch the earth
Fiery wand all in accord
Lady guide us to rebirth
Cord and censer, scourge and knife
Power of the witch’s blade
Waken all ye into life
Come ye as the charm is made
Queen of heaven, queen of hell
Ancient huntress of the night
Listen as we sing this spell
All love and pleasures are your rites
By all the powers of land and sea
By the light of moon and sun
As I will, so mote it be
Chant this spell, so be it done.
From: The Pagan Library
This is another version of the Witch’s Rune, called the witch’s tune. The words were adapted by Aldan.
Dark of night and rising moon,
East, then south, then west, then north
To each we sing a witches’ tune
That calls the ancient powers forth.
Cup for water, fiery sword,
A pentacle to touch the earth,
Airy wand, all in a cord;
Lady, guide us to rebirth.
White for birth, and green for life.
And black for all the worlds between,
Cauldron, censor, scourge and knife
All celebrate the triple queen.
Queen of heaven, earth and hell
Ancient hunter of the night,
Join us as we sing this spell:
All love and pleasure are her rites.
By all the powers of land and sea,
By all the might of moon and sun,
As I will, so mote it be:
Chant the spell, and be it done.
From: The Pagan Library
The man cut his throat and left his head there.
The others went to get it.
When they got there they put the head in a sack.
Farther on the head fell out onto the ground.
They put the head back in the sack.
Farther on the head fell out again.
Around the first sack they put a second one that
But the head fell out just the same.
It should be explained that they were taking the head
to show to the others.
They did not put the head back in the sack.
They left it in the middle of the road.
They went away.
They crossed the river.
But the head followed them.
They climbed up a tree full of fruit
to see whether it would go past.
The head stopped at the foot of the tree
and asked them for some fruit.
So the men shook the tree.
The head went to get the fruit.
Then it asked for some more.
So the men shook the tree
so that the fruit fell into the water.
The head said it couldn’t get the fruit from there.
So the men threw the fruit a long way
to make the head go a long way to get it so they could go.
While the head was getting the fruit
the men got down from the tree and went on.
The head came back and looked at the tree
and didn’t see anybody
so went on rolling down the road.
The men had stopped to wait
to see whether the head would follow them.
They saw the head come rolling.
They got to their hut they told the others that the head
was rolling after them and to shut the door.
All the huts were closed tight.
When it got there the head commanded them to open the doors.
The owners would not open them because they were afraid.
So the head started to think what it would turn into.
If it turned into water they would drink it.
If it turned into earth they would walk on it.
If it turned into a house they would live in it.
If it turned into a steer they would kill it and eat it.
If it turned into a cow they would milk it.
If it turned into a bean they would cook it.
If it turned into the sun
When men were cold it would heat them.
If it turned into rain the grass would grow and the
animals would crop it.
So it thought, and it said, “I will turn into the moon.”
It called, “Open the doors, I want to get my things.”
They would not open them.
The head cried. It called out, “At least give me
my two balls of twine.”
They threw out the two balls of twine through a hole.
It took them and threw them into the sky.
It asked them to throw it a little stick too
to roll the thread around so it could climb up.
Then it said, “I can climb, I am going to the sky.”
It started to climb.
The men opened the doors right away.
The head went on climbing.
The men shouted, “You going to the sky, head?”
It didn’t answer.
As soon as it got to the Sun
it turned into the Moon.
Toward evening the Moon was white, it was beautiful.
And the men were surprised
to see that the head had turned into the Moon.
The Hunter’s Moon rides high,
High o’er the close-cropped plain;
Across the desert sky
The herded clouds amain
Chased by the hounding wind
That yelps behind.
The clamorous hunt is done,
Warm-housed the kennelled pack;
One huntsman rides alone
With dangling bridle slack;
He wakes a hollow tone,
Far echoing to his horn
In clefts forlorn.
The Hunter’s Moon rides low,
Her course is nearly sped.
Where is the panting roe?
Where hath the wild deer fled?
Hunter and hunted now
Lie in oblivion deep:
Dead or asleep.
When the moon was full they came to the water.
some with pitchforks, some with rakes,
some with sieves and ladles,
and one with a silver cup.
And they fished til a traveler passed them and said,
to catch the moon you must let your women
spread their hair on the water —
even the wily moon will leap to that bobbing
net of shimmering threads,
gasp and flop till its silver scales
lie black and still at your feet.”
And they fished with the hair of their women
till a traveler passed them and said,
do you think the moon is caught lightly,
with glitter and silk threads?
You must cut out your hearts and bait your hooks
with those dark animals;
what matter you lose your hearts to reel in your dream?”
And they fished with their tight, hot hearts
till a traveler passed them and said,
what good is the moon to a heartless man?
Put back your hearts and get on your knees
and drink as you never have,
until your throats are coated with silver
and your voices ring like bells.”
And they fished with their lips and tongues
until the water was gone
and the moon had slipped away
in the soft, bottomless mud.
As I lay awake in the white moon light,
I heard a faint singing in the wood,
‘Out of bed,
Put your white foot now,
Here are we,
Neath the tree
Singing round the root now!’
I looked out of window, in the white moon light,
The trees were like snow in the wood–
Child, and play
Light with the gnomies;
In a mound,
Green and round,
That’s where their home is.
Curds to eat,
Cream and frumenty,
Shells and beads,
You shall have plenty.’
But soon as I stooped in the dim moon light
To put on my stocking and my shoes,
The sweet sweet singing died sadly away,
And the light of the morning peeped through:
Then instead of the gnomies there came a red robin
To sing of the buttercups and dew.
– Walter de la Mare
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