“Where the Light Begins - A Blessing for Christmas” by Jan Richardson

Perhaps it does not begin.
Perhaps it is always.

Perhaps it takes
a lifetime
to open our eyes,
to learn to see
what has forever
shimmered in front of us—

the luminous line
of the map
in the dark

the vigil flame
in the house
of the heart

the love
so searing
we cannot keep
from singing,
from crying out
in testimony
and praise.

Perhaps this day
will be the mountain
over which
the dawn breaks.

Perhaps we
will turn our face
toward it,
toward what has been
always.

Perhaps
our eyes
will finally open
in ancient recognition,
willingly dazzled,
illuminated at last.

Perhaps this day
the light begins
in us.


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“Crazy Tuan-mu Shu” from Lieh-tzu (this rendition) by Solala Towler

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“The Old Violin - The Touch of the Masters Hand” by - Myra Brooks Welch