Shadows, shadows dance away the fire,
from summer green to fallen leaves,
oh light the sylvan pyre;
for the day is red and ripe upon the branch,
leaves of autumn turn to gold,
shadows, shadows dance away the fire.

For there is a summer in each life,
until the shadows ride the samhain wind,
to a twilight celebration;
and there is a shadow to each light,
a dusk to every morning spring,
to a seasons celebration in the dark.

Shadows, shadows wash away our pain,
feel the harvest hour of letting go,
‘til the hearth’s alight again;
for the night is sweet
and ripe upon the vine,
she seeds dreams within her herbs,
and ancient grains of wisdom in her wine.

For there is a winter in each life,
‘til springtime blooms carry us,
to a maidens celebration;
and there is a fire in each night,
a sleep unto awakening,
to a seasons celebration in the light.

Shadows, shadows carry us to rest,
to roots of willow and beds of stone,
to hillsides where our ashes are blown.
Time, time, dance away the cold,
feel the starlight in the wintery hood,
the summers gift, the fire in the wood.

For there is a season to each life,
a hope for sorrow and despair,
shadows, shadows dance away the fire.
For there is a season to each life,
a gift of joy for every pain,
to a season’s celebration in the heart.

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