our sun's tendril embers ignite
a glowing fuse into the passage grave
dark and silent as only a tomb
the sun's fingers creep inch by inch
for the hundred paces you crawled as a child
clutching a candle spilling burning wax
the dawnsunbeams reach
the megalithic inner walls
of the clover leaf chamber
embroidered with spinning preceltic designs
which imagination opened into a passage to the afterlife
exploding the room in fifty foot candled splendor
warm as only _ the sun can be
bringing light down the dark shaft
on the one moment of the year the sun returns
to the house we built for Him or Her
in the deep dark of December
on the mourn of the longest night
coming over the hills on the southern horizon
the Sun currys dawn
and as on a pivot
the days stop getting shorter
the nights grow no longer and
for minutes the tomb shadows are combed in light
the chamber set back in the earth
the room drowned in darkness
now through a solar window is graced
the sun in a solar celebration of the sun's return
spinning in circles closing in on the center
our star is coming home to this house on earth
right on time every year
has for five times thousands of years
we are carried on the light
we are bringing on the light
we are bringing on the light into the tomb
we are bringing on the light
we are bringing on the light into Deep December
