The Cycle of the Seasons staring at Yule

From out of the darkness the light does appear.
As it starts on the path to make our life clear.
The dark of the night is losing its strength,
As the light of the day increases in length.
The face of the land is wiping its eyes,
As the season of winter says its goodbyes.
And the wheel of the year begins its slow turn,
Controlled by the hunter, that some will call Herne.
And Herne is just one of the faces of He,
Sent to us here from the one who is She.

The seeds of creation have taken their place,
In the hearts and the minds of all throughout space.
The season is changing as spring does appear,
As the darkness of winter has shed its last tear.
The life in the soil will push its way through,
While animals think about mating anew.
The spin of the wheel is gaining in speed,
As the life in the soil awakens from seed.
And while Pan gently plays.
Through the nights and the days.
We'll follow His lead, O Pan, Great Pan!

The returning light is brightening my way,
As I stand in the circle to quietly pray.
The night and the day are equal in length,
And the power of the day is gaining in strength.
The scent of the blossom is filling the air,
While the animals mate without much a care.
And the wheel keeps on turning,
While my heart keeps on burning,
With the love and the power,
Of this enchanted hour.

The peak of the light approaches us fast,
With the power of the God, unyielding and vast.
The nights are retreating and losing their power,
As the sun creeps higher, hour after hour.
The crops and the plants have not far to go,
On their journey to light from the darkness below.
The beasts of the land are playful and free,
In the watchful presence of God who is He,
Who keeps the wheel turning,
And keeps the sun burning.
All hail to Apollo, God of the light! 

The power and the light have climbed to their peak,
And the only way's down, their direction to seek.
The length of the day is soon to pull back,
To retreat into darkness for death to attack.
Look now to the crops whose growth has now stopped,
On approach to the time when fruits will be chopped.
The animals rest and hide from the sun,
As the death of the light has almost begun.
And the wheel of our life does turn towards home,
The God will depart and we'll be on our own.

The light of the sun is now in retreat,
And the heart of the land is slowing its beat.
The shortening days are taking their toll,
In the face of the nights, so black as coal.
Talks of the harvest are filling the air,
As the engines of tractors are starting to stir.
The beasts and the birds are gathering food,
And the clouds in the sky are darkening their mood.
The turn of the wheel is slowing its speed,
And the presence of God, no longer a need.

The day and the night are equal once more,
The harvest collected by rich and by poor.
The balance is felt now all over the earth,
And the God moves much closer towards his rebirth.
All projects completed, now time to take stock,
Experience gained by the tick of the clock.
As animals hide all their food for the time,
When the coming of winter, sounds its first chime.
And the wheel keeps on slowing,
As the God knows He's going,
But we know he'll return, 
The Hunter called Herne. 

The darkness of winter's returned once again,
And the life in the land continues to wane.
The day is retreating and night does prevail,
No flowering joys, only colours so pale. 
As the barriers stretch to allow a quick glance,
From order to chaos, perhaps there's a chance,
To see what's ahead or gain some insight,
Into life's ups and downs, our continuing plight.
Now the wheel turns so slowly, awaiting the time, 
When the God will return and climb to his prime.
But for now we must wait and enjoy the repose,
And know that this cycle has come to a close.
- Shenarah