This frigid bitter winter/ a pair of chapped lips and thumbed mittens/
I wish I saw the star the shepherds witnessed fall/ which transfixed them all in awe/
A sullen body frozen stiff ingrained in ice as hard as metal/ It glimmers too/ under the only source of warmth and light/ the Son, the other one, who died for those who've lost their way/ If I could cast my vote and make it matter/ I would recommend the latter/ day saints do sing praise on Saturday's/ what odd rituals to which men succumb/ my hair a long and flowing style is how I externalize my individuality/ Though in reality is thinning/ The fountain of youth, an old man, bent and uselessly grinning/ his wrinkles fade away, his legs replace his cain/ I see the Glory from His face as he ascends and fly's away...
(This piece is an imagery of the birth and life of Christ and the life of a man who has witnessed Jesus in real life.)
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