"An ye hurt noone do as ye
will"
My lady
wishes me show thee thy tools
First ye must know thyseln 
Thy skrying
crystal 
An ye gaze in't,
time is na nor space
An ye cut the pain o' birthing, an ye cut the spell, an ye cut the circle
An thy cup be pure as thy heart 
An ye rite the
spell in the winds
Soft as ye pluck thy herbs
lest ye give injury
An ye
send thy prayer to Her in High
wi' wind o' smoke ay wing o' dove
