Christmas Eve

Candlelights flicker,
illuminating light brick walls.
Stille Nacht
is slowly sung
by a serene church choir.

Outside, broad flakes fly,
falling from the sky.
Displaying the magic
for all to see.

Somewhere behind the chintzy wrapping
of those gifts that embody
our materialistic desires,
Somewhere beyond the brightly colored lights,
bright pinpricks, a tribute
to our wonderful plastic capitalism.
Somewhere above the flickering flame of the dying cande light
lies the magic of this holy night,
lies the true cynosure of this season.
This is Christmas Eve.

Tomorrow we will awake
to a white Christmas morn,
the world-no longer fake-
all of it having been reborn.

We will run to our presents
and open them with glee,
not for a second seeing
what monsters we become.

We will devour our chocolate,
without a thought to the starving.
We will throw away wrapping
without a thought to those who get nothing.

But tonight it is Christmas Eve,
no gifts, no materialism.
Tonight is holy,
Tonight is sacred,
tonight is what Christmas is.