Advent

Somewhere between dark and light there is a time
Made of shadows, where night holds fast to most
And all is painted with dim, less a color than a lack
Of all that allows diversity and joy.

Here dreams, ragged from waking, cobweb across our minds
Blunting moments with drifting tides of sense and nonsense
Flotsam left from what might have been, fears and hopes drowned
In sleep’s seas and washed to grate upon these indefinite shores

Awash in these tides we are drawn to a window, painted
By something new, from another place than night’s drifting currents
Dawn comes, not here yet, but there, out there where clouds awash
With pink and gold become other than shadow’s emissaries.

Oh, to live there, where color cuts with edges tinged with clarity
Where hope is not an illusion already torn, where shadows flee.
Oh to see, to be seen, to know and be known, to believe and claim myself
For better and for worse, whole and real, part of more than dreams.

Yes, we live in shadow. But the dawn is coming, from beyond our tiny control
Comes color with sound and song. Weep and laugh and celebrate.
Sleepers awake and leave the night to its own musty dreams.
Look beyond the shadows, there, there. Darkness’ hold is broken.

For unto us a child is born.