Christmas - Poem by Bernard Kennedy
At the deadest, darkest, dreary
winter night, the numinous hosted
a light.A glimmer slowly seen,
and then, hope burned,
in the cold cavern.
and knowing slowly caught.
This is Christmas,
light and dark,
and darkness dims
and natures canvas
paints, the inner meaning,
born in a cave.
The first etch of redemption.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You