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I would wane when it is time,
I would rise when it is my moment,
prepared to submerge in order to be remembered
and rise again
by the dawn of the sun

I see what no others see,
as I am an outcast to tradition,
all custom, but mine own
within my own, with my kindred
with my kind

I am the wind under bridges
that bellows as I cross by
In the air destiny is spoken;
I am forbidden to ask why

Insight forms like invasions, molestations,
or sometimes a faint rapture;
bide my words, if you trust,
there will be no manner to capture
your knowledge,
apart from me
Listen to what I see

I am the wick of ritual,
the stag
the wanderer
the wolf
I create
finding my way
forming a way
raising up my power
not to be denied

I wrote this poem for Jenzie @jenzielive who requested I write a poem about Magic.  I asked her witchcraft or magician, and she seemed to like the option of witchcraft.  Thanks for the topic Jenzie!