A woman stands, Alone in the woods, Awaiting her fate once more, Returning to her place in the cycle of life.
What is that? A rustling in the forest, Closer and closer the noice creeps, Is this the one to seal her destiny?
Now he stands before her, Clad in nothing but the sky, Grown to full manhood, and awaiting, Her.
Their eyes met, Locked in a familiar gaze, Have they been here before, Shall they dance this dance again?
No words were spoken as they met, Quietly they drew close together, And trembling with anticipation, They were united again once more.
He touched her face carefully, She seemed so familiar to him, As if he had always been a part of her, As if they completed a whole.
Beneath the hallowing moonlights glow, They danced the dance of ages, They met, and loved, and joined as one, Completing the holy union.
As they lay their after, A new cycle had already begun, She lay now holding his child, And he lay forseeing his death.
They would come apart again, And meet together once more. For it is the cycle of everything, As goes the Beltane Lore
—Lady Amhranai (2002)