A Yuletide Hymn: Where Ancient Fire Meets Incarnate Light

A Yuletide Hymn: Where Ancient Fire Meets Incarnate Light

In the profound hush of the year's deep pause,

Where night clings close and the stars convene,

We cluster near to hearth's embracing blaze,

And murmur ancient vows in names serene.

The wheel halts poised; the shadows deepen wide,

Earth cradles dreams in winter's velvet keep.

Yet in the bosom of the blackened ground,

A vital spark awakens from its sleep.

Holly and ivy, fir and pine entwine,

Adorn the portals in their verdant grace.

The hearth leaps high, the table richly laid,

For gods and guests, for kin in sacred space.

From primal woods, etched frost and mystic rune,

The Yule-log glows in Mother Nature's womb.

Its embers whisper: light shall soon revive,

Though languid turns the wheel of seasons' lore.

And in the stillness, gentle as a sigh,

Beyond the grasp of chill and mortal night,

A babe is born in lowly, hallowed stall—

The dawn incarnate, pure and infinite light.

No regal crown, no blade of power's might,

But love alone in realms of flint and stone.

A sacred blaze, at once untamed and tender,

The ageless fire in mortal form enthroned.

So chant, O world, in every vein and voice,

Of solstice eve and Christmas' radiant dawn.

One truth unites them, timeless and profound:

The gloom retreats; the luminance is born.

We hallow flame, we consecrate the loaf,

We honour life and whisper to the lost.

By stellar gleam and hearth's enduring vow,

We pledge to shield the light, whate'er the cost.

For Yule is hope that frost cannot subdue,

And Christmas whispers it shall e'er endure.

In heart and home, in song and flickering gleam,

The light returns—its promise ever sure.

It won't be long.

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