The first step into darkness
ahead of the light, the first star
kindling hope at night. We turn
to one another, almost smiling —
chilled air freezes our words
to silence. A child’s breath
becomes a quiet gasp of wonder
at the sparkling sky.

In such silence is a whisper of peace
too fragile, too quick to break.
Horses pound dust, unsettling
hearts. Soldiers hunt down
hints of hope in a new king,
any flash of light in the dark.
Streets hang quiet at each breath,
straining to hear the clatter
of hooves and armor.

A darkened lamp clatters
as it’s kicked, useless without oil,
upon stones that pave
the Roman way — cold, silent.
Justice bound and buried
for an idea of peace.
The stones we laid cry out.

Upon the hills nearby, a light
scatters shadows. Night breaks
unexpectedly to song.
A child is born, a son is given.
An unbroken brilliance shines
in the darkness and refuses
to go out.

The King is come.

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