The Warlock Of Love

Borne of woman chaste,
And true to one man of noble birth and chivalrous deed,
Born in time not known to man, Yet noted for its amorous pleasure.
Appointed as a lord by many,
Though outlawed by their elders.
You wore a cloak of witching black
With patterns not of stars and moons,
But with the hearts of lovers
Beating their rhythms in time.
You cast a spell as only you could do,
And thousands danced and kissed at the Sabbat of the Cherished,
Where the spirits celebrated your life.
Timely men and lovely girls delighted in your corkscrew curls
Woven round your mystical brow,
Enshrouding precious nestlings with your wilderness looks.
So many lost souls needed you,
And you were there to play their tune
And offer solace to their troubled minds.
You were esteemed,
Almost a god,
Your spoken words became a shrine,
Yet your mortality was there for all to see.
You left this world as a human son
When you knelt on the wings of a buck white swan.
Perchance your life was not enough,
But you will always be the warlock of love.