EPITAPH

When I transfigure, when I step through the diaphanous veil dividing the mortal realm from the immortal: Dare not weep for me! For I shall be in Summerland, freely gazing upon the radiant faces of Mother Goddess and Father God. From their Divine lips I shall hear of ancient mysteries that no human tongue can utter. When the conditions and time are proper once more on earth, I shall return again, on the desert wind. So it has been. So it shall be.
)O(   

ALONE

People tell me they love me. How can this be? Love is seeded, nurtured and brought to fruit through knowledge and understanding of the beloved. There is no one who knows me. They only know what they think they know. Yet, I only allow them to see what I want to them see, and some of what I allow them to see isn't necessarily the truth. There are none whom truly understand me. How can someone understand what they don't know? At the very instance of my conception our great Mother Goddess laid Her hand upon me and destined me to stand alone. I run outside the pack.
I am: The lone wolf.
So mote it be!
)O(

THIRSTING

People come to me to harvest the love they find lacking in our madly chaotic society. People come to me for counseling knowing that what I hear in my ears goes to my heart, there to stay until the earth swallows my heart. People come to me for guidance in the ways of our Craft and in addiction recovery for I speak honestly. People come to me seeking after the wisdom that I have learned from others. But I am nothing. I am alone.
)O(

THE FOUR GRACES

If we; Wytche Druid Pagan and Old believer alike, are lacking in love mercy compassion and understanding, we are but sounding brass, and like clouds are easily buffeted hither and fro by a simple shift of the wind.
Pray ardently for these gifts.
)O(

HARVEST

A man must tend
what he sows my friend
Lest
come the harvest
he may just find the reaper
to be a ...
               WHIRLWIND!

WORD SPELL

There are no words to speak or to tell
of the magickal mystical spell
you have worked and woven around my heart
gently ... tearing it apart

There are no words to whisper or to shout
or that could possibly sing about
the sweet pain you have sown in me
which only my soul can perceive

There are no words so learned or so wise
whether spoken in truth or spoken in lies
that can explain or can reveal
my heart pierced by love's cold steel

There are no words so common or fair
be it in hateful cursing or blessed prayer
that can tell the story simple and plain
of a man by love cruelly slain

O woman it's only you and you alone
that can chant the hidden unknown tome
that will tell the world or allow them to see
how you've gone and crucified me

Confessions Of A Wytche: An Autobiography

     I am an ancient soul. I have been here before, in the mortal realm, many times. I rise from the dust of ages past to dance this mad dervish we call life, only to sleep once again in the sands of time. I return from the kingdom of the dead on the southwest wind. They say the southwest wind can drive a person mad. I find that interesting.
     In this incarnation I was bastard born in Scharding, Austria on December 20, 1946 at 1:38am. It was cold. Severely cold. World War II had come to a close, but the blood and the pain was still fresh in the memories of the global population. My life has been a life of blood and pain. In the last six years before I went to rehab and cleaned myself up from thirty eight years of active addiction to drugs and alcohol, the blood and the pain was self inflicted. With fire and razor.
     On December 23rd I was taken to Stephenkirche, and there baptized into the Roman Catholic faith. There is a quaint little story told of how my father had to hold the the marble bowl of holy water beneath his military coat, in his armpit, in order to melt enough water for the priest to sprinkle my head. Humorous no doubt, but it was the first step in my spiritual journey. I was christened Philo Ornaldo Ferdinand Franz Josef Nichols. Philo is Greek. Ornaldo and Ferdinand are Spanish. Franz Josef is Austrian and Nichols is the English derivative  of the Greek name Nikolaus. I have no knowledge as to how the Greek and Spanish names came into play. My paternal grandmother was French English and my paternal grandfather German Irish. The maternal side of me is Austrian for as many generations as they can count back. So, whence came the Greek and Spanish names is beyond my ken. Perhaps I should ask my mother as she played a primary role in my naming. Either way, as you can see, Austrians have a peculiar propensity for burdening their children with multiple names. Thanks mom! However, I must confess, this strange phenomenon served me well in later years. 
    My father was stationed in Austria as a part of the military occupation of my nation after the demise of the Nazi regime, which had left it's cruel stamp of death on my mother's side. By the time those murderers were driven out, there was naught but a handful of adult women, two adult males and one male child left to that branch of the family tree. They had all died either fighting in the resistance, or being exterminated for being too outspoken and politically incorrect. The male child had a twin sister. They both disappeared in the Russian occupation sector of Vienna, to never be seen or heard from again. The two adult males both died without producing issue.