In the deepest winter night
Where memories of summer light
Are faint and cold and so we yearn–
There comes a solstice and return.
The little girl now lights a flame
For the One Who is not Tame
For the One Who is not Wild
For the Kingdom’s lion child.
Shadows reign–so she remembers
Blowing gently on his embers.
Inhaling with his holy breath
Her every exhale is his death.
And on the darkest day on Earth
The deepest Magic shapes a birth
And with the golden flame of art
She crowns the Lion in her heart.