The Mystery of Christmas

THE SECRET

Hidden reality

Like life in the womb

Hidden reality

Like death in the tomb

Hidden away

For the appropriate day

A tale that’s never told,

A trail that’s long gone cold,

A mystery unrevealed,

A truth that is concealed,

Seems useless on first glance.

Who said there was a secret,

Who told us we must keep it

Who set the search in motion

And stirred up our devotion

If ‘clueless’ was our stance?

Call forth the revelator,

Who hinted something greater

A light that has been hidden

A thought that comes unbidden

And is not mere romance.

Go to the old gate keeper,

And wake the guardian sleeper,

Arouse the storyteller

Seek out the boundary dweller

Lulled into tragic trance.

For sometimes revelation

Awaits the new creation

Propitious point in time

When insight is sublime

And we’re prepared to dance.

The time may fully come

The race be fully run,

The truth could then be heard,

And taken at its word,

As happy happenstance.

Thus mystery has a point

When times are out of joint

And no one wants to hear

About the truth they fear

Because of circumstance.

In one sense all of history

Apocalyptic mystery

With secrets kept and told

By prophets young or old

Who speak, suggest, recant.

For too much information

Obscures the revelation

Prevents a clear reception

May even cause deception

Instead of some advance.

So let us treasure mystery

And truths that unveil history

Spoken in due season

Reflecting divine reason,

And never left to chance.