Full moon blessings/ poem For the Buck Moon?

Under the fierce glare of the Buck Moon, I call forth the wild and the untamed. Antlers rise, shadows stretch, and the pulse of the earth thrums beneath bare feet. Spirits of the hunt, guardians of the threshold, awaken! By blood, bone, and breath, I bless this moonlit hour with primal strength and cunning.

May your path twist with mystery and your words carry silver-tongued spells. Let your desires grow bold, as the stag's rack crowns him king. Shed the skin of hesitation. Chase what flees, bind what lingers. Summon what lies dormant within.

By moon’s edge and forest’s whisper, may fortune favor your mischief, and may no blade find your back unguarded. Drink deep of the night. Howl if you must. Dance like fire on sacred ground.

This is your rite beneath the Buck Moon—blessed, wild, and wicked.

So mote it be. 🌕🦌🔥