Falling now slowly,
pulled to that far shore,
when light ever lowers
rises tales told of yore.

Awake not to rote tasks
but to still clearer dreams,
golden colors now cloak us
as the sun’s warmth it wanes.

Slip further coddled
into earth’s last caress
as the mind’s gate too drops,
spirits seek their egress.

Hosts hold court
obscured to mortal men
as morseled moments,
shards of potential,
now spin.

Grows colder and darker,
this kingdom complete,
its last transformation
barren and clean.

Our land lies stripped
as we huddle for life
but the promise now pregnant—
the return of the light.

Riders outside are howling
as we feast and seek warmth
‘round hearthstones and fires
to tell evermore

stories of ancients
and heroes and kin;
children’s eyes light with wonder,
their own stories begin.

Snow falls and covers
the virginal earth
to nourish her mysteries
and portend rebirth.

We look outward in wonder,
then gaze back to the tree,
that pole through our home
twining joy and mystery.

Tonight I, my forebears,
and scions are one
in this timeless space
most remote from the sun.

Though darkest and longest,
this star-adorned night,
our shared dream now abates,
and we turn toward the light.

—

After I was asked to record a reading of this poem by Volk Dissident and we consulted a bit, he created this terrific video with his original music.

Complete archive can be found on the Poems page.

Painting: The Yule King (Green Man), by Michael Kerbow