Upon the eve where shadows twist and sway,
Under the cloak of ending April's day,
The Beltane fires, with flames both bright and pure,
Will soon be lit, their ancient magic sure.
In circles round, where witches' whispers weave,
And pagan chants the eager air receive,
The kindling crackles, sparks begin to fly,
A beacon to the stars that stud the sky.
The dance begins, as feet with earth entwine,
In rhythms old as hills, we move in line.
With hands entwined, around the flames we go,
Our shadows merging in the firelight's glow.
The night is ours, to banish frost with heat,
To welcome summer's kiss, both soft and sweet.
The veil is thin, the spirits drawn near,
To celebrate the turning of the year.
We raise the cup, the mead flows free,
Beside the Beltane fire, let our hearts be light,
For on this night of magic, might we see
The ancient powers, dancing through the night.
And when at last, the dawn begins to break,
And weary feet the homeward path do take,
The Beltane fires, now embers, softly say,
"Remember this magic, until next the May."
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