There is a shadow in the sky,
there is a spectre blotting out the stars.
The torch of the Sun is hidden
by the jealous Earth
who tells the Moon,
"I love you in shadow
I love your pocked and dusty face."
There is a death waiting for us all
there will come a time when we are only shadow -
when we are nothing more than a wavering spectre.
Will you dance at the crossroads?
Will your shadow cross her feet?
Will you smile into her dusty face?
There, the torch held high.
There, dark mother leads the way.
Follow the braying of hounds,
feel the breeze of beating wings.
She has shown you the path;
Will you follow?
We say, Hecate! Beloved Mother,
dark as the shadow moon!
Hecate, face powdered with the dust of crossroads!
Hecate, old mother,
torch bearer, keeper of keys!
Hecate, our love we give!
Hecate, our devotion we give!
Hecate, our offerings we give!
Light our way in the dark.