We cannot see what is to come.
To know the grief or joy.
To have revealed what may go
Right or wrong, and where we fit.
We hope for joy always, we hope
For the happy ending, the good way.
Why does this time awaken such hope?
Maybe it is the promise of all that is good.
Wrapped in a babe with death marked
As its birth. Or maybe it is the promise of
Love brought forth in the darkest hours.
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