Dormant land, in frozen sleep, Nothing stirs in this desolate place. The ancient which has strength, Withers not, The roots run deep, safe from the frost A ray of light penetrates The womb of Mother Earth, Ensuring our survival, Until growth begins again. Gather together as this Sacred site, Invoke the Sun God on the longest night. Late in his coming, short in his stay Profound is the feeling of the longest day. Re-Enact our primal wisdom, At his appointed time As Ritual, ages old, Passed from the mists of time. Light flows like liquid gold, Across the chamber floor, Illuminating hearts and minds Our dreams alive once more. Night falls, devouring the light A darkness so dense It can sense your fears And taste your tears. Life from death, warmth from cold, The sun reborn, as hope returns. Adorn the hearth with holly For protection and for hope, Use the sacred golden sickle. As your cut the mistletoe. Light candles in the winter trees, Hang the boughs with evergreen, Burn fires throughout the longest night To drive the dark away.