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Writer's pictureLee Coutant

Weaving the Web



Weaving the web,


Strand after strand,


The shapes take form,


Rooting in our souls,


Filling it with life,


Weaving our Wyrd,


Our Fate,


O’ Sisters Three,


I hail to thee,


And call upon you to guide my hand,


And ready my heart for the halls of Hel


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