Morning mists give way to breath
The way our lives give way to death.
Painted trees in varied shades
Between the realms, the boundary fades.
The cold lays claim to frosted ground.
Nature, lays to rest its sound.
And those we loved but lost return,
Who guide us through our lessons learned.
Pay homage to the ones who’ve died
To those from which your life derived.
It is with gratitude we release the land,
To be entombed, by winters hand.
Here we are at Harvests last
A new year built on others’ past.
Blessed by those we merry meet,
And blessed by those we part-
Such blessings are passed through spirit,
via ancestry…by heart.
For those unseen and those unknown
Part of this grand design-
With thanks beyond great measure,
Through this Sabbat we entwine.
For lives are only born from death,
and sacred time conceals-
The truth and beauty found in both…
That Samhain now reveals.