High atop the spire, beneath a cloudless sky
the Cross stands forlorn, Christmas is nigh
since long in the past, time beyond recall
no bells chime here, sung no Christmas carol!
But still its heart flutters, as it hears the Lord's voice
I carried your burden and set for you the choice
to do this world much good and love your fellow men
be happy in others' happiness, take share of their pain!
Kind Lord, mutters the Cross, men still live for gain
act the way it seems, your blood was shed in vain
they war and breed hatred, between them raise wall
hanker for pelf and power, in their loss they squall!
The church lies abandoned, starkly white and bare
only the Cross bows, to the Lord in silent prayer
still hoping it's not far away, when the bells would ring
the Lord would carry the Cross again, on his second coming!
Merry Christmas to all my fellow poets.
