We each must celebrate the season,
the holiday,
as we’ve been taught, as we do, based
on our values,
our beliefs, who we are, but here
at the lake,
on a silent night, a night holy,
perhaps,
all is calm, all is bright, a
clear sky’s
moonlight lighting, illuminating
the lake,
snow covered now, this winter eve,
virginal snow
unspoiled, untrodden, a peace unto
itself,
and to the east, a star shines
brighter
in a field of stars, and it’s easy
to believe
in a child born, a lowly birth, or
richly gifted,
a gift himself, this child, love’s
pure light,
radiant, a pauper’s child, or a
king’s,
and in the breeze stirring up, a
slight stirring
blowing from the west, faint and
distant, soft
hallelujahs might be heard on the
wind,
glories streaming, as we pull our
coats tighter
about us, quaking, our fears
revealed, doubts
in a world much changed in growing
older,
longings lingering to return to a
simpler time
of knowing, of faith believing,
this silent night,
this holy night, for all is calm, all is bright,
and tonight, this Christmas eve,
there is hope
renewed, a child born, quiet
Hallelujahs sung;
so sleep well, old world much
changed,
old world and us, this night, this
season,
huddled here and watching, sleep,
sleep, in heavenly peace.
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