So let the spark catch in the grove, on the moss-grown altar, under the horned moon.
The remembers: fire is older than temples, older than the word “sin.”
comes not from the sun but from friction between what was buried and what refused to die.
Not a prayer — a kindling. If you meant something else (e.g., a misspelled band name, a local folk term, or an experimental music cue), please clarify, and I’ll adjust the piece accordingly.
An incantation for the threshold