The Prodigal Sun

I guess this year is a first for me.
The first Christmas without the Christ if you want to be blunt about it.
And while I hold no ill will to those who adore the story
Of a man come from glory to a shed here below, a great message to bestow,
I guess this is a first for me.
The first Christmas with a looking forward more than a looking back.

Not that those who love Jesus don’t spend some time to tease us
With the promise of life everlasting,
But their main focus in December is on a fire that became embers many years ago.
I love the story to be honest.
Two parents with only a promise that their love had been true
And their God had come, out of the blue, to give them a child – the child born of destiny,
One to heal all man’s iniquity.

But all that aside for a moment,
Can we take the time to get back to the Romans?
Way back when so few people knew the score,
Back to the dark ages of magic and lore.
Back to the time when we didn’t have a sodding clue,
Why nights grew dark and lips turned blue at the mere mention of winter,
We could have honestly done with a hint here and so we looked to the Sun.
That flaming brilliant ball of heat, that cooked our skin and spoiled our meat in the summer time, was dying – nay, gone!
And the winter’s bite was hard and snow shone,
Bringing smiles but yet frowns as the easy days had flown.

The sun would return we said.
We know it goes up and down and we’d bet our daily bread on the fact
That even if blinded by cataracts the fire would be there,
Drying the land and heating the air.
For summer comes e’re winter is gone.
Have faith, joy will return, we tell our little ones.

So I guess this year is a first for me.
The first time I look forward only one year, and take comfort in the knowledge
That come hell, high water, or orange flavoured chocolate (ew),
The sun will rise with vigour anew and heat our earth perhaps a little too much;
but perhaps that is something to think on come March.
And life will again, come and return
With the reign of flowers and leaves, strong rivers, streams,
Bees will pollinate, procreate, obfuscate the reason for nature’s palate vis a vis their fate,
And bring new spring in the step of winter’s demise.
Yes. Again the sun will rise.

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