Walkin on Air

Simplicity of a Child

Shudders wrench my body-frame,
Christmas neons flash out a gaudy-name
as X marks the spot where Jesus as Christ
once was:
X-Mas had become a poltergeist!

December certainly did not herald
the birth of our Savoir and King;
of what value is a flawed emerald
or a snapped shepherd's sling?

Oh, so many faults I found:
prophecy, science, yes even make-believe
supported my judgement calls;
where'ere I looked sins abound,
myself I taught personal views to retrieve
from confines of mental walls.

Bah! Humbug! Christmas is not for me:
buying of presents for all to see?
Dancing and singing around a tree?
Santa Claus, reindeer, elves and the like,
what happened to Jesus with the cross and spike?
X-Mas is just a way for Satan to strike
at our very hearts.

But wait a moment, a voice from on high
sounded close and clear, Holy Spirit nigh:
'The Children, what of their joys
their faith, love, and hope?
Pure souls cannot with cold logic cope.
Why would you want babes to deprive
of simple birthday spirit toys?
Charity only can contrive
that Christmas is for that time of year
when even doubters come Jesus near.'

Stillborn infants are tragic truth
denied a life of happy youth:
have I on Christmas morn awoken
so very grown-up and outspoken
with facts and figures, yes proof galore,
forgetting God's promise holds a store
of basic worship grounded in
just seeing Jesus without sin
regardless of a date or time,
a place or maybe some temple
obscuring sweet smiles, a dimple?

Too sad it is to contemplate,
I fear I fell into the ditch
and let the shibboleth of intellect
skew my view and let aggravate
my ego's nature, my pride's glitch,
assuming I might be perfect.

And so it is is my dear, dear friends
I came to realize
that Bible facts with prophecy,
albeit we should ne'er despise,
is not God's greatest gift at all
found to be in his treasure trove:
nay beloved, the greatest gift
is the simplicity of pure love!

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Simplicity of a Child

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