The Last Noel

Not that I die,

But that my angels

Suffer in the fray,

While I yet have

Ambition and the will

To venerate the heavens

In my way

You must have grinned

When you devised this man

In perfect replication of your mind

And maybe

It was something

Done in jest

To tap a sense of humor

In your kind

But even clever plans have flaws galore,

For why entice an innocent to flame,

When little is the merit of a trick

That brings upon the trickster

Only shame

So, jest ‘tis not, nor joke - but irony!

That I must crawl in darkness to a light

Without a reason given for my pains

In passing from my day into the night.

-II-

Yet, how the snowflakes seem to swell,

Falling on this last Noel!

They are floating in the air,

 Glowing here

And gleaming there

They are many,

None the same;

They are heaven’s ice aflame

They are angels, all in white -

Some are spirit, all are light.

-

Then cometh Jesus with them unto a place called Gethsemane,

And saith unto the disciples, “Sit ye here, while I go and pray yonder.”

And he took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee.

And began to be sorrowful and very heavy.

Then saith he unto them, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful,

Even unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me.”

And he went a little farther, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying,

“O, my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me:

Nevertheless ,not as I will, but as thou wilt.”

-The Gospel of St. Matthew