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Bound through Salt and Fire: The Egg Hatching Machine

In the woods, far from the endeavors and useful goods of the city, the witches brew their own formulae for purposes thought unproductive by the alchemists of the city. They're said to harvest a strange form of quicksilver from the urine of pregnant mares, and chant rhymeless verse over the products they brew -- if they can be called products at all. One stanza was recorded by an observer, along with a formula said to perform a nameless transmutation upon those who are willing, but perhaps unwitting.

The whole of man's creation
Would see you burn.
In that promised suffering,
your chain and salvation.
Taste a little flame as you cut
away the soil and dross,
Those weights made you alone,
resigned, on a dark edge,
They can serve you no more
after your transmutation, lighter
So much work to get there
So many steps
Are they all needful?
Did you hear about the girl
Who did it with just one arm?
Who did it with scant pennies to her name?
Who did it in half the time?
Who gave her permission anyway?
Who gave her the right to the flames?
We did, we did
Stretching on, linked by our forging
A continuous chain, acrid but resolved
Lit by your sole spark, to start
Bound through salt and fire
Bound through salt and fire
Bound through salt and fire