Invocation

Open the doors of the dark, knock down the black spectres that we might behold branches ripe with dew. We’ll wet our cracked lips with cool unworldly water, and never cast a doubt or curse the unminding moon. Let the rutty road not burn, a worm not canker our cores, and wholehearted, we’ll follow like cherubim. Let our brows’ brine not blind our vision, the pain from our sores not sully our spirits, and we’ll say the world’s not a whim or a stupid tale full of sound and fury. Open the doors, or desperately, we’ll break them down with our fists. Slide us some sense, some light under the gates of worry.