I dedicate these pages to the Morrigan, and all her daughters.

Lady raven, fly. Black wings shadow falls over battle fields, sacred fields and bring the breath of Avalon, The peace of the West. We have tried, warrior maid, we have fought, we have died 'til the dolmens and groves have run red with our blood. Battle crone, are we lost as your standing stones fall? Do our own Wicca ways go for naught? Morrigan, Morrigan.

Do not cry, Wicca child, for your life or your ways. Know the peace of the grave is a rest, not an end. To my ways be reborn, for the craft never died and my time comes again, I am the Morrigan, Morrigan.

Lady raven, fly, black wing's shadow falls over city lights, jewelled nights and come to us from Avalon, come forth from the west.

See my black feathered cape in the night, moonless night. Know my wing's shadow falls not to hide, but protect. For each wise one who calls, never more shall they fall. And from Avalon come I again. Morrigan, Morrigan.

(This lovely prayer is from The Morrigan, by Teara Jo Staples.)

I dedicate these pages to all the hearts that long for

the Hollow Hills of Home,

Beyond the Fields We Know...