A
brig
ht fla
me burn
s in me.
F
o
r
The
child has come.
In the still night. Wh
en
all is gone from th
e
daily grind of living.
Here
in a smelly, eart
hen
stable lies the sw
eet
mother and babe.
Who
will come and se
e
what is foretold by t
he
prophets? Who wi
ll
dare oppose the po
wers
of the earth and
worship?
Silently so si
lently
they come to th
place.
Telling tales of a
ngels
and light coming
through
the darkness.
O
come, come let us ad
ore
him in the dark of a
night
of our own making.
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