Soft snow falling,
Kissing the white tops of the trees.
It'll be a white Christmas this year,
First one my baby cousin will ever see.
His sleepy eyes and rosy nose,
Does he know that his joy will simply grow,
When Saint Nickolas completes his flight?
No I doubt he'd know that tonight is the night,
Of the birth of Jesus Christ.

No, but he will learn,
All in time as bed hours turn.
A yawn catches me drifting off,
As I sip my spiced cider and listen to the Christian hymns.
Staring into the golden lights of Grandmother's "Angel Tree,"
I often wonder, did baby Jesus know, he was sent by God,
To save our souls?
Or did he find his light along the way?

I'd ask the pastor,
But tonight the church is quiet.
Waiting for Christmas Mass tomorrow,
While young children are tucked into bed,
Drifting dreams of presents fighting the will to wait up for Saint Nick.

And as the candles fade,
I figure it is my time as well.
To turn to bed,
And await the sleigh of Santa Claus.
This Christmas though,
He will not be able to bring me what I want.
Unless, I could catch a ride,
On his magic flight.
Visit the ocean,
And sing "White Christmas," with you one more time.

But matter not what I long for,
I will slip away to sleep eventually.
'Merry Christmas to all,
And to all, a good night.'

By the light of a million candles burning
A million hearts, for you, are yearning
A million stars up in the heavens shine
As you tell me "I love you, and you are mine"
You are my Light and you are my Love
You are my Life: my Lord above
Come and find rest, come and find peace
Come to the table and join in the feast
For the Lamb that was slain is alive in us once again
No one left in darkness and sin can remain
In the light of grace and in glory resplendent
Behold, the triune God, fully ascendent
My soul shakes as the light breaks
Over the hills that come alive with song
And I know in my heart, this is where I belong
Here with you in prayer and praising
In silent wonder at Christ my Savior gazing
Grace and mercy, water and blood
Drown me in this Holy Flood
Streams of life from love outpoured
When they pierced the heart of Christ my Lord
In your great goodness may I never grow tired
Of looking upon you, and being inspired
To look with awe and wonder as a child
Come back to you and be reconciled
You do not condemn me, but you say "Sin no more"
A chance to come clean: what are you waiting for?

Rushing steps halt cold,
Crimson glare demands patience—
Time drips through still air.

Diwali is the festival of lights
in which the rockets reach the heights
a day filled with laughter and fun
a temporary relief from the hasty run
sweets shared with everyone around
and the sound of crackers and happiness surround
the ordinary children burst crackers at night
while the poor children watch the colourful lights
they,  very eager to watch these wonderful sights
are unaware of their darkness among these lights
Diwali lights the dark, colourless night skies
while the poor strive for a light in their lives

Humans
brush past
one another
in the shifting
colors of the
city lights,
the droplets
fall from the clouds
of time
as though
touched by
starlight, and
even love arrives
by fate for the
people who
are not it's
seekers.

the lights turned off & everything was black

but for that millisecond, i was not afraid of the dark

the dark moved as if it never existed
a void abyss, yet it didn't consume my vision

because i trusted that my eyes

would adjust to the darkness

And it did.

I went down those stairs,
And through that door,
Between the ancient columns
Of old and forgotten stone.

The air was made of crystals.

Hope danced above,
And around,
Flickering golden and silver
In the cold winter lights.

The air was made of crystals.

I could feel again,
As if the numbness thawed
In that single moment
Spent by the fireplace
Of someone willing to
Listen.

The air was made of crystals.

And I went down those stairs,
And through that iron door,
And past those frost covered columns.

And the air was made of crystals.

Between autumn's offerings
And spring's wings,
Our winter lights are everything.
Crisp sky nights string tinsel streams,
And crystal air heils winter's dreams.

Poplar trees that snowed in summer
Are treasures held in winter's slumber;
Their branches hold in silhouette
Crowning stars that brightly sit.

Here dreams of flight and fancy thrill
Shimmering eyes on a gift-wrapped hill.
Shorelines once rubbed with reeds,
Are splashed by our moonlight beads.
Knolls wrapped in wreaths of herring bone,
Like sirens call us out from home.

Stars held in place with poplar fingers
Ring our ponds like carolling singers.
There nestled by framed winter scenes,
Our winter lights glint red and green.

These lights, that through our windows stream,
Bring to mind warm Christmas dreams.