the babe was born

the babe was born.

i suppose he cried

and there never was a Christmas

until this day.

his parents felt the joy

that all parents feel,

at the snuggle of his head

into their chests.

then the singing began

from the black, starry night.

caused by the joy 

of the birth of 

this babe

and the baby grew.

he was one year old.

a first uttered prayer

schooled by his parents

like you and me.

he was taught not to touch some things,

to be careful, and kind.

hold a hand when you walk in the market,

pet the animals softly.

and every Christmas, he grew 

wiser and wiser,

and the heavens

continued to sing.

then the boy that skinned his knees,

became the man that 

healed our hearts

and saved mankind

and the angels broke forth

in a joyful chorus

as he came back to the

starry heavens.

i can hear them singing now

waiting for the day, 

the day that he was  born.

i ponder his  birth

then tears unwillingly

cleanse my face,

my heart burns bright and fierce

for i know the truth of this Christmas 

He lives,

He loves me,

He knows me by name.

tender brother, 

tiny babe,

Jesus Christ;  

the Savior of my soul.