Samhain Ritual Pipe

On the edge of Samhain, when the air tastes of woodsmoke and the last leaves sigh their descent, when the veils grow thin and the air smells of spice and endings… a cherrywood pipe sits aglow in the firelight. Across its surface, my hand has burned a story into being. Finis Aestātus… the end of summer… unfolds in a medieval script, marking the passage of warmth into the hush of autumn. A Victorian hand offers a sheaf of wheat, an old-world gesture to the spirits of harvest and memory, to whatever souls still wander the fields. Around the stem, an Ouroboros coils in eternal circle, whispering of life unending, of the dance between decay and becoming. The pipe itself was crafted in Ukraine, made for light use… yet the markings upon it were born of my own freehand pyrography, guided by the season’s fading light. It is a small relic of the turning year, meant to be lifted in quiet reverence as the fire burns low and the veil between worlds begins to stir. Freehand Pyrography on Ukrainian h