All the wyrden faerie lights
give their own dizzy delights.
None are spared, all are entranced,
captured by their spiral dance.

Their inherent eerie grace
oft dole out the best of praise.
Watch the seamless colour flow
dazzle you with shifting glow.

While dancing with quiet flair,
they trace patterns in the air:
hexen bane and runist boon.
Hasten, now, waning moon!

Wraiths wait 'neath moon's dwindling light,
while crows caw with mad delight.
The foliage is still; entranced,
Bound fae soon begin their dance.

To Mother Night's hallowed grace:
a dark dance, a shadowed praise.
All about pitch shadows flow,
soon all lit things mute their glow.

Nightwraiths feast in Wyrden flair;
Mahalla's songs fill the air,
All partake in Wyrden boon,
Behold the birth of New Moon!