Pagans are the reason for the season metal ornament

In ancient woods where whispers play, Amidst the stars, 'neath moon's array, Where earth and sky entwine in rhyme, Pagans weave tales in wintertime. They danced around the Yule's bright fire, To honour solstice, hearts aspire, Through folklore's lore and mystic bond, The season's essence, deeply fond. When darkness veils the daylight hours, They celebrate with ancient powers, Their rituals, a sacred art, Bestow upon the world their part. The wheel of time, it turns with might, In winter's chill and longest night, Pagans echo the timeless plea, "Bringers of light, so mote it be." From snow-kissed groves to hallowed ground, Their reverence and beliefs profound, For in their spirits, pure and keen, Resides the soul of what's unseen. They herald forth the wintry reason, "Pagans are the heart of this season," In their embrace, traditions bloom, In every chant and ancient tune. Thus, let us honour their rich ways, Their legacy that still conveys, In whispers of the wind's soft breath, Pagans, guardians of life and death.