By fire and rhythm the old path is found,

Feet kiss the earth to the drum of the ground.

In flicker of flame and breath of the night,

The circle is cast in ember and light.

The body remembers what words cannot hold,

A language of movement, ancient and bold.

Each step is a calling, each turn is a key,

Unlocking the gate where the worlds brush and meet.

The veil grows thin as the fire climbs higher,

Shadow and spark weave spirit and fire.

From root and from star, from whisper and bone,

The unseen draw near at the summoning tone.

They come not in thunder, nor clad in their names,

But in warmth on the skin and the leap of the flames.

Two spirits in motion, in rhythm entwined,

Dancing the edge of the mortal and kind.

Together we move where the dark still holds sway,

Honouring night as it loosens its stay.

For darkness is womb as much as it is grave,

And the light must be welcomed, not taken nor claimed.

So we bless its return with sweat, breath, and song,

With the knowing that night and day both belong.

The sun is invited, not forced from the deep,

As the world turns slowly from dreaming to keep.

The year takes a breath at the close of the round,

Old endings releasing, new beginnings unbound.

What was is laid down in ash and in flame,

What will be waits, still unspoken by name.

By Yuletide fire, in dance we prepare

The turning of seasons, the crossing of care.

With spirits beside us and earth at our feet,

The wheel turns again…made whole, made complete.