Witchery Poem

In realms where magic dances free,

Where witches weave their mystery,

A tale unfolds of power untamed,

Where rules are bent and laws are named.

Behold the witch, with spirit bold,

Whose heart is forged in secrets old,

They walk a path untrodden, true,

Where their own light will guide them through.

Amidst the whispers of the night,

They cast their spells, both dark and light,

For they believe in their own might,

And bend the rules with second sight.

The three-fold law, a sacred creed,

That binds some witches in their deed,

Yet they, unbound by chains so tight,

Embrace shadows with sheer delight.

They dance with the moon's embrace,

Their cauldron sings a mystic grace,

Unfettered by the laws that bind,

Their craft is shaped within their mind.

For they are free to rise and fall,

To answer to their inner call,

To wield their power, strong and pure,

With spells that make the spirits stir.

Not bound by ancient moral scales,

Their magic roams where darkness dwells,

They seek the balance, on their own terms,

In twilight's glow, they find their firm.

For each witch's path is theirs alone,

A melody that's all their own,

In harmony or disarray,

Their craft unfolds in their own way.

So let them weave their spells untamed,

For they know not to be ashamed,

The witch in them, fierce and wild,

Carves their own path, both free and styled.

In realms where magic reigns supreme,

They dance through the moonlit dream,

The witch, unbound, forever soars,

To practice their craft, by their own laws.