Share 'Mother Night!'

Now let us sing of Mother Night! Come, thou whose circle is endless flight She whose body from celestial stars is made, upon whose breast are souls are laid Mystery, black as midnight's heaven far, yet brilliant as the silver star. Thy realm is the void primordial skies, light and life in thy hand lies. Dreams and soft ease attend thy train lead drifting sleep to Orphic strain. Nikta, decked wi…