Hecate of the CrossRoads

Hecate of the Crossroads

In the hush between the heartbeat and the flame,
Where shadows stretch and whisper out her name,
She walks the paths no mortal dares to see
Hecate reigns in triple sovereignty.

At moonrise pale, with torches held on high,
She parts the veil that blinds the inward eye,
Her hounds cry out where restless spirits roam,
And guide the lost and wandering dead back home.

At crossroads carved in silence, stone, and bone,
She claims the night as wholly as her own,
Three faces turned to past and yet-to-be,
She threads the loom of fate’s dark tapestry.

She taught the herbs their secrets, root and leaf,
To heal the wound or conjure dream or grief,
In whispered rites where candle smoke ascends,
She bends the will where mortal magic ends.

When Persephone was taken by the deep,
And Demeter’s sorrow shook the earth from sleep,
It was Hecate, with flame that would not wane,
Who lit the path through shadow, loss, and pain.

She rides the wind where storm and omen meet,
With ghostly legions trailing at her feet,
The keys of hidden realms within her hand,
She guards the gates no living soul has planned.

In secret shrines where offerings are laid,
Of honeyed cakes and garlic in the shade,
She listens still to those who call her near—
Not cruel, but just, and never ruled by fear.

So speak her name when darkness crowds your breath,
When choices fork like life entwined with death,
For in the night where all your doubts ignite,
Hecate stands—keeper of the liminal light.

**EKLSR&FRIENDS **

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