The Keeping

I could not know how quietly they spoke, until I came close, and heard nothing still
Take solace in my work done; my word kept and thine to keep
Naos, open be

When verbum and ordeal may be counted alike
And a ten fingered hand has been fed
Then the pentacles to glass may return
And the naos shall open be

Thy airt of the acre- ripe for the reaping
Blood of my heart- thine for the keeping