The Hearth keeper's Shield (An Ancestral Ballad)

The Hearthkeeper's Shield (An Ancestral Ballad) The fire sleeps low in the iron grate, But the embers of old never fade or wait. A thread from the past, a silent call, Woven through time, protecting all. I stand by the stones where my grandmothers knelt, Feeling the wisdom they spun and they felt. I whisper a name to the gentle breeze, A plea to the roots of the ancient trees. May the knot hold tight, and the magic flow, In the light of the sun, and the moon's soft glow. I wear the Hearthkeeper's Shield, spun from fire and peace, A cloak of protection that shall not cease. By Brigid's high flame, by the turning key, I call my beloved Ancestors to shelter me. My spirit is anchored, my way is clear, The weaving is done, banishing all fear. Lios! The stream of the soul flows in dreams and in might, A silver reflection in the deep of the night. Nabia's sweet water, both cleansing and true, Washes the shadows and opens the view. I walk the Crossroads where Hecate stands, Leaving the burdens held in my hands. Oh, what was broken and what will remain? The echo of laughter, the whisper of pain. Lo-fi truth humming from ages unseen, The future and past where moments convene. My blood remembers, my voice must teach, The spells that the silent and weary did preach. I wear the Hearthkeeper's Shield, spun from fire and peace, A cloak of protection that shall not cease. By Brigid's high flame, by the turning key, I call my beloved Ancestors to shelter me. My spirit is anchored, my way is clear, The weaving is done, banishing all fear. Lios! The weaving is done... The cloak is spun... Lios... So mote it be...