Wicca

Past the vines of tangled mass, 
Twined with metal and broken glass. 
Through the trees of majestic height. 
All stands still in the night. 
Sleeping soundly as a child, 
A young flower grows beautiful and wild. 
Blooming colorfully with an ancient past, 
It marks the love that has long last 
Through centuries like pure gold. 
We come together both young and old 
To greet the moon and give thanks to the night; 
To praise the sun and all of its might. 
Forever we seek and search out 
Why people fear what was first brought about. 
Tainted and twisted are people's minds 
Because wicca has stood the test of time.