Pagan’s Gifts

Long ago, a lost world sang,
While young grew old
And chanting voices rang.

Decades long lost distant past
Where pagans made their rituals last
Solstice seasons, gathered clans
Now where ancient stones still stand.

White haired ragged priests decreed
Tribes to worship how nature freed
And ordered, after the shortest day
Embers of the Yule fire staid
The birch, holly, oak should see…

The winter celebration day, worship- mistltoe
The magic to show the peace, Gods might bestow
More, if lovers held the plant, above a women’s head
The berries gifts, for each new born,
Formed as Saturn raised in Capricorn
Fertility might quite possibly visit their bed.

Has that world, now left
As time has inevitably moved on
Does your heart still feel
That timesless age revealed
Where Pagan Fathers walked the land
Granite stones in circles stand stiff
The wonder of the Pagan’s gift.


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