"The Light of Christmas"

Cultivate complacency

But isolate integrity;

Trample down what little

Hope of righteousness remains, until

In bleakened, strangled, starving moans,

it passes from this life,

unmourned.

Left alone now,

idle thoughts grow;

weeds in virgin soil

unchecked.

Hope is such a painful word --

Too much effort,

    too much toil.

So like the toy in young man's closet,

Left to gather cloak of dust,

Leave it now,

Forsake it

to the junkyard

of my cluttered mind.

All that is, or was, or will be,

Hopelessness cares not for this.

Journey now in desolation;

Wander in the darkest pit

of Hell

until, in blinding flashes,

Light surrounds me,

Searching, probing,

finding now a weakness

in the hardness of

my heart's defenses;

gently shining light

into the darkest corners of

My soul.

Now in sudden self-awareness,

Sin I see as ne'er before,

Touching every fiber

of my prideful, unrepentant soul.

Now upon my knees I fall;

In sorrow deep I lift my voice.

I cry out to the One whose birth

made possible this

Blessed Light.

I cry to Jesus,

Son of Mary,

Born in lowly

manger stall.

I cry to Jesus,

Son of David,

Son of God,

Immanuel.

8 Kevin Ness