The High Altar

The High Altar

by Charles E S Fairey

High above on the sandstone edge

An altar of sacred mystery,

Sits about a sacred grove,

Beyond the veil of secrecy.

Where ancient and strange invocations

Are performed throughout the year,

Where echoes of otherworld reality

Dance in unison with occultists here.

Where nature and elementals persist

And Pagan Spirits live on immortal,

This place imbued with magical energy

Where high priests thy coven install.

Initiates learning the mysteries of the Craft

Passing into the realms of the ether nigh,

The raising of thy immortal self

Amongst the stars of the infinite night sky.

Above the Full Moon as sharp as crystal

As chants of ceremony ring through,

Seeking the treasure of thy mystery

If only those in darkness the secrets knew.

Spiraling power and energy

Voices from the trees and stone,

Wonderful and potent tools

About the High Altar below Pan’s Throne.

The aura of the Edge

It’s tempting majesty,

Each prayer and ritual renewing,

Ascending, powering its magical energy.

This holy site of knowledge

Watched over by its Guardian,

The Wild Man of the Woods,

The Green Man’s Great Champion.

Decades have seen witches

Perform their mystical art,

Onlookers tempted to interrupt

And know what’s behind each Wiccan’s heart.

Each year the High Altar

Is blessed, and gifts left for thy Spirit,

Ceremonies played and prayers said,

Incense burned and candles lit.

This is Alderley Edge’s High Altar,

Where Pan sits and watches at times,

Within this natural sacred grove,

Up above the Sun God shines---

And lights each precious day,

While throughout dark night,

Goddess Moon lights the gloom,

To bring the knowledge of the light---

To each Worshipper of the Craft,

Who hopes to ascend to immortal might,

And find their treasure, The Mystery,

Whether it be Day or Night.