Rede of Service


The Rede of Service

Heed the TOS you must, in perfect Love and perfect Trust.
Read you must and let to read what you want and what you need.

A policy – three strikes we tout to keep the most annoying out.
To bind you to our spell and trap, we make you read this legal crap.

We bring you the poetic touch, but don’t abuse our faith too much.
Honor the TOS in deed and name, or we’ll hang you out for public shame.

Deosil is the waxing moon; also see each day til noon.
Widdershins when the moon is wane; the sun goes back to bed again.

When the slivered moon is new, you’ll find the newest issue, too.
When the moon rides at its peak, then in the archives shall you seek.

When the North wind is in power, we shall have our darkest hour.
When the Wind blows from the East, make magic sex like a wild beast.

When the South wind blows afresh, fire energies will mesh.
Wind then whispers from the West, and all shall reap from the harvest.

Nine woods in the cauldron go; e-zines allow the trees to grow.
Birch wood in the fire goes; we print what the magician knows.

Oak trees tower over all; love under will is the Law.
Rowan wood is magick pure, bringing power to endure.

Willow on the river ledge, ever at the Abyss’ edge.
Hawthorn burns to cleanse the space, so get that shit out of our face.

Hazel has the nuts to bring, but nuts onsite we must outfling.
Apple trees bring tempting fruit that let Lucifer unseat the Brute.

Grapes and vineyards slake our thirst; burn them to assuage the cursed.
Firs are e’rgreen and alive; in darkness we must inward strive.

Elder is the sacred tree; burn it not, just wait and see.
Four times a year, polarity; four issues then are what will be.

As the old year comes to end; the new begins, it’s now Samhain.
Spirit work is what will hail for the thinning of the veil.

Yule and winter meditation bring many a realization.
When Imbolc winter flowers bloom, new issue on a brand new moon.

Ostara sees initial stirrings of the sacred fires burning.
Beltane weaves the lingam’s pole; it seeks rutting as its goal.

June will introduce Midsummer – a celebration, not a bummer.
Lughnasadh or Lammas be dogdays of humidity.

Mabon brings the start of change, the green all turns to colors strange.
Pagan new year, toast the dead; they dance on Samhain in our heads.

With a fool no drama start, we’ll kick your ass, then Merry Part.
Merry Meet, you’re sharp enough to handle riffraff and the rough.

Mind the TOS you should; three times bad, you’re out for good.
To know thyself is paramount, the archive will dispel all doubt.

We’ll strive to stick around a while; your content makes our readers smile.
But mind the TOS, we say, or you might have a real bad day.

Composed by Sheta Kaey and Nicholas Graham. ©2006 and beyond Rending the Veil. All rights reserved. Do not reprint without written permission of the admin of this site.

Last revision 22 April 2009 by Sheta.

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