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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #1356779
A poem about the nature of Christmas as I see it today.
"The Season"

In the beginning it was "The Season" and it was pure and true. It was the feast of Thanksgiving, the carols of Christmas and New Years's resolutions too. It was family and friends, some coming from far away. It was the joy of seeing those absent faces coming home for "The Holidays". We celebrated the passing of another year and of all the things we felt. We celebrated God's grace and His gifts within ourselves.

So much has changed since those "Wonder Years" those days of hope and faith. And the shadow of what remains are what our children consider The Holidays. It seems that the measure of a gift is now the dollar sign and the question of how much we've spent is The Season's bottom line.

Will Christmas ever recover the joy, the glory of day's gone bye? And how do we change these terrible trends, my God; how do we even try?

But there is hope, this I truly believe my friends. For Christmas is not dead, no matter what Godforsaken trends. There is only one way for it to completely die and that is if we choose to let it end. Christmas only slumbers; the magic still burns deep within. It sleeps inside of all our hearts; the ones of us who still remember when.

There'll come a day at Christmas, a time when there'll be no wars. It will come once we finally learn what Christmas is really for. There'll be no hungry children, there'll be no empty hands. There be only God's grace and together we will stand. So let us make "This Christmas" the one where we began to heal a battered world; "The Season" once again.
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