On this sacred day,
they await a Savior:
a light for the shadows,
and warmth for the long nights.
Days and days they sit
in the very same holy spot,
praying for the change.
Winter slowly creeps in,
shaking the zealous to their core.
Faith, a fickle candle,
can't stand the gentle breeze.
The wick becomes chilled,
the flame extinguished,
and the weak begin to flee.
Those faithful to the Sun
scorn those who leave the holy site.
Even as the light dies
and the world grows cold,
here they sit patiently.
Unfortunately for them,
darkness still comes to those
loyal to the day.