The Sorceress

No beauty's pride, nor brith, nor power,
No fame, not wealth, nor age
Has found a way to change her hour
With spells she mixes, plays.
Perchance as witching hour us nears
For mankind time to slumber
Ointment applied so that she may fly
through bright starlit skies, outnumbered.
Have o'er life each pathways trod,
decreed by her own powers.
Amid the silence lone and deep
everwatching mankind as they sleep.
For the spirit world it does rejoice,
noon and night and just one sun.
A magical hour it does alight
throughout midnight hour her time's begun.