Hope shone awhile in darkness
illumined the path of goodness
offered a cure for our sadness.
Hope sought to make a difference
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A day of solemn dignity,
hidden in God from eternity,
foretold by the Prophets of antiquity,
the day Christ was born in humility.
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An island set in the Mediterranean Sea,
mountainous, green, very pretty.
A jewel coveted by envious eyes:
Frenchmen, Italians, and Moors.
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Everywhere I go I see a timepiece looking at me;
its hands at the ready to signal the time:
tick-tock, tick-tock, it reminds me
that the present is passing,
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I remember being asked to go to Galilee,
to break the good news to a young lady.
I told her what the Lord had told me
and of future things he could foresee.
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Hope is meant to lift darkness,
point to some future goodness,
forestall a danger that is looming,
open a window on a new beginning.
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I saw a chasm encircling the earth,
a divide between affluence and dearth.
Myriads of souls stood on either side,
each with its double on the other side.
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In a land not his own
he finds a place to sojourn
until the green shoots of freedom
sprout in the land he calls home.
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Longest night to shortest day gives way,
light over darkness holds sway.
Sun of righteousness with healing in its ray
shone on that first Christmas day.
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Saffron-coloured garment, old and dusty,
drapes a frail skeleton-like body.
He stands motionless, gazing into the far distance,
deep in thought, like someone caught up in a trance.
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