In the deepest night, when the darkness suffocates all sense, when we are driven into the stories of the mind and our fears and doubts are magnified, when the rising sun feels a generation away and time is eternally elongated, when the cold in the bones feels it will never leave… may the Son be born.
As the seasons of life fade into the winter, and we enter the dormant time, when the year has drained all energy from the body and the mind, when the spirit yearns for the breaking spring and warm air, when the ice blows in from the north and the chill wells from the ground, when the colours wash into stark tones… may the Son be born.
In a world of anger and isolation, when the stories tell of all pervading grief and conflict, when leaders fail to inspire and bring joyful vision, when greed pushes the weak into the earth and we watch as our damage seeps deep into the globe, when hatred and fear are objects of pride and power… may the Son be born.
In a time when many are trapped personal pain, when illness infects mind, body and soul, when sadness and emptiness sink deep and suck out life, when we reach too far for things which offer nothing and our obsession with individualism has left a chasm of loneliness, when more and more power is pulled by the gravity of wealth and fame from the hands of the ordinary… may the Son be born.
In a time of corrupt religion and abusive leaders, when there seems nothing left to believe or hope in, when faith has become a machine gun in the hands of terror and beliefs exclude and isolate, when we see questioning is a bad thing and vulnerability a problem to be solved, when spirituality has become a commodity… May the Son be born.
PICTURA POESIS 