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Poem

Cherish the day of the Bethlehem child.
Heavens celebrate him till now,
	and forever would do so.
Redemption messages from the throne of
	grace fill the air.
In flakes of snow and tiny dusts of from Sahara they were inscribed
	and poured down on us.
Salvation songs howl everywhere, sing the songs of
	heaven accompanied by the sound of the breeze
Trumpeting as they sweep past the snow-capped mountains and rain forests;
	the mellifluous sound touching down to the souls of men.
Mourn your loses no more. Inhale the blue night’s air
	of the Christmas eve.
And speak one last time to your soul;
	it shall be well with you.
Stand before the silver frame and repeat the same words
	to the person in the mirror. IT SHALL BE WELL WITH YOU.

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