I am the traitor.
I don't believe in god, and
I especially don't believe in organized religion.
In fact, I find it irrational
and self-serving.
So why do tears spring to my eyes
as I think of the birth of
a baby I don't believe even existed?
It's not about the baby.  Or the priests.
I may go to hell for saying it,
but they don't matter.  At all.

No, it's about walking down a brick sidewalk
along a cobblestone street
arm-in-arm with a loved one,
Seeing the ancient stone churches
capped with snow and with candles in the windows,
Taking in the brightly festive lights
adorning fading brick buildings,
and knowing that there's a little more
peace in the world
as snow silently falls,
coating the world's residents
in love for one another.
Even if it is for only a few days.