Horn brim with longing-to-flow-over froth raised arm-high to ale-reflect the moon, I offer thanksgiving and celebrations of victory! Sky-wizards, earth-witches, elves and deep nornir, you have warped the woof and bent the bast-threads to grant my gift -- nourishing my need -- and I declare your magic before all nine worlds! Burdens of sorrow, and great, melancholic weights you have lifted! Praise Be the Holy Powers! Not my false entitlements to excess, but my genuine soul-needs you have honored! You have looked deep into my heart, which I have opened wide, and heard my cries! You have felt my poetic Tai Chi reaching to pull and push aside the web's threads, to play the world's taut bowstrings rather as a harp than bolts of dart. You have sensed my wizard-prayers in kinesthetic surfing, miming prayers on the moon's ether, and slow-motion dance-calligraphing need on the energetic tides! I weep and kiss the earth in praise, encomiums of fallen friends and ancestors on my lips, deep devotion to the High Gods in my heart! Victories, often being rare, deserve celebration! Praise Be the Gods for the precious gift of life! Praise Be to Urd for secret stitches stashed in larger knots to let loose slips of good surprises! Praise Be to Kin for Loved Ones and their Health and Happiness! Hail!