In the night
|
Was the dark
|
In the dark
|
Was the dream
|
In the dream
|
Was the Child
|
And myself
|
There unseen
|
In the book was the word
|
In the word there was truth
|
In the truth there was age
|
In the age there was youth
|
And I said to the Child
|
Do your hands they still bleed
|
After all of this time
|
Do you think there’s still need
|
But the Child only smiled
|
And said not a word
|
And the snow it came down
|
As if it hadn’t heard
|
And all that night the snow came down
|
To heal the scars our lives had found
|
And the dreams that lay broken
|
And there upon a bridge of dreams
|
Across the night we walked unseen
|
With no words ever spoken
|
And then on through that night
|
We did walk for a while
|
And our steps turned to blocks
|
And the blocks turned to miles
|
Then we followed a path
|
For as far as we could
|
Till we found ourselves there
|
In an evergreen woods
|
There were thousands of candles
|
Upon every tree
|
It was beautiful
|
But there was one mystery
|
For with all of those candles
|
You must understand
|
That the only one lit
|
Was now in that Child’s hand
|
And there upon that Christmas scene
|
The candle wax of melted dreams
|
And the years they had taken
|
And as the snow did gently fall
|
He one by one relit them all
|
Till each dream was awakened
|
And there to that light
|
That young Child showed to me
|
All the things that he dreamt
|
All the things that might be
|
How for everything given
|
That something was gained
|
Strike one match in the dark
|
And all the world’s not the same
|
And then I asked that Child
|
Why this night has a star
|
And he said, «So we’d know
|
That we could see that far»
|
And these candles are wed
|
To that distant star’s light
|
And it all came to be
|
Upon that long winter’s night
|
That long winter’s night
|
That long winter’s night
|
That long winter’s night
|
And when I awoke, well the Child he was gone
|
But somewhere in my mind
|
I believe he lives on
|
And somewhere in my life
|
Between here and the end
|
On a long winter’s night
|
I will dream him again
|
Then she noticed on some Christmas cards
|
A reddish purple stain
|
Where someone had spilled some Christmas wine
|
And there it had remained
|
Until the heat from a radiator
|
Whistling in the air
|
Had caused it to evaporate
|
Into an angel’s share |