Poetry

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May my words be as true
   as the One I've come to know.
May my heart, my life, be as You.
Only Your Spirit could make me so.

Every season comes with a gift,
   though with no hint of wrapping.
It has bridged a timeless rift
   with the most gracious of trappings.
Found in here, in this heart,
   against the rift, timeless joy.
There is working a holy art,
   adopted as my Father's boy.

Even now, as I write,
   my heart swells with gladness.
With the Son as my might,
   I can fight the raging madness.
Christmas found home within me,
   and He is all my Life.
Borne again, the Kingdom I see,
   His name is Jesus Christ.

So my gift is not a thing.
It is the One True Person.
All for Him, I can sing,
   even as times will worsen.

Through this Son, other gifts come.
One you see in these words.
Other gifts found, His daughters and sons,
   we are each other's girds.

Any Christmas is only as true
   as the Christ Who brought it.
And if Christmas is found in you,
   it is only by His Spirit.

And for you, all I can do,
   is beseech with an invite.
Come to know this Christmas true,
   giving you your needed sight.
May your Christmas be as true
   as the One I've come to know.
May your heart, your life, be as new,
   only His Spirit could make it so.

© 12-11-2010

Matthew 1:18-23

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