At the crossroads, where the night and day converge, there stands the goddess, Hecate, emerged. Her presence in the shadows, softly weaves, A tapestry of whispers through the leaves.

With torches bright, she lights the hidden paths and holds the keys to a wisdom that outlasts. Her silver hair, a lunar halo bright, Illuminates the mysteries of the night.

In darkened woods, where silent secrets rest, She guides the lost and grants their souls’ request. A mother to the witches, fierce and wise, Her name is sung beneath the starry skies.

O Hecate, with magic pure and deep, In shadows and in dreams, your vigil keep. Through ancient rites, your power we revere, In every whispered spell, you are near.