Rituals

In the quiet dawn, our rituals start,

A dance of solace, a sacred art,

With morning’s light, we gently weave,

Patterns of grace in which we believe.

Candles flicker with whispered vows,

A silent prayer in the open air.

Each sip a bridge to something more,

While pages turn in ancient books,

Wisdom’s touch in every look.

At twilight’s call, we find our way,

In moonlit rites, our spirits sway,

Through rhythmic chants and softened songs,

We bind our hearts where they belong.

A timeless rhythm, a sacred space.