For those not feeling it this Christmas...you are loved anyway
become punctuated with a tear and a sigh.
Another time, another land it often seems
As we again become enthralled in the legend.
A tree is harvested, another set to plant.
First one, then another,
Ornament upon ornament
Telling the story of the highs and the lows.
Add the new, cast out the old,
Edit the story for the better telling.
A Bell here, an angel there,
Each creating its own note and rhythm;
Each a reminder of things long past;
Each a pointer to a future sweet and loving.
At the end of the tradition,
The broken and unwanted are set to the dust bin
We let the forgotten and the missing ornaments
come to rest in cobwebs of memories.
The discord of flashing lights
Brought to harmony with the setting of the final note
A star atop a tree so bright
Shimmering lights cast to sundry places.
The wise sought their brand and purpose
As all manner of things became superfluous
As we gazed in awe at our creation, abiding the new,
And laying to rest the missing, we appreciate that
The final symphony was upon us
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