| Dormant land, in frozen sleep
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| Nothing stirs in this desolate place
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| The ancient which has strength withers not
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| The roots run deep, safe from the frost
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| A ray of light penetrates the womb of Mother Earth
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| Ensuring our survival, until growth begins again
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| Gather together at this sacred site
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| Invoke the Sun God on the longest night
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| Late in his coming, short in his stay
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| Profound is the feeling of the longest day
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| Re-enact our primal wisdom
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| At his appointed time
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| As ritual, ages old
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| Passed from the mists of time
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| Light flows like liquid gold
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| Across the chamber floor
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| Illuminating hearts and minds
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| Our dreams alive once more
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| Night falls, devouring the light
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| A darkness so dense
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| It can sense your fears
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| And taste your tears
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| Life from death, warmth from cold
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| The sun reborn, as hope returns
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| Adorn the hearth with holly
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| For protection and for hope
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| Use the sacred golden sickle
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| As you cut the mistletoe
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| Light candles in the winter trees
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| Hang the boughs with evergreen
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| Burn fires throughout the longest night
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| To drive the dark away |