At Christmas when the lonely sit alone;
when the day has come at last.
There's a hesitation for your soul
that a present comes to ghast.
Where the thought of who was giving
brought a moment joy would laugh.
And the spirit was caught rising
to disgrace the life we staff.
Though the cards weren't on the table
and the path was clearly marked.
Still you wonder where mistaken
your decicions laid unharked.
That you welcome your sadition
your own fate has put you in.
Knowing no way was anothers
or your path has let you been.
And you sigh from what is comfort
knowing you might see the past.
When you know it's cause the future
wasn't hindered for your mast.
And the thought of gifts from others
makes you feel you're loved from heart.
Where the memory of their actions
only feeds a soul to start.
That you open up your present
and you feel the love flow out.
And your thankful that you waited
for the thought you've kept cast out.
And you wish them Merry Christmas
from the bottom of your heart.
Knowing what's more than the future
than the carrot of the scart.
And you welcome Christmas morning
with the angels of the lord.
When you welcome what is Christmas
when not seen through it's accord.