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If called to stand on a lonely moor on the 24th, at night
And wait to see if the stars appeared to cast their wondrous light.
Go stand ye, wait and watch with awe as the stars appear on cue,
And wonder at the faith of the ancient kings, the three, the mighty few.

Who set out on a lonely night to find a Saviour rare,
A babe in a stable, born to a maid, never doubting he would be there.
Would you sally forth from your hearth and home to answer a call such as this?
Carrying gifts for an infant babe, betrayed by a loving kiss.

On the 24th, at night, we still gather, to wait and watch on the moor,
For the kings to pass by on their journey far to prove the old prophets lore,
And I still wonder at the faith they had, wishing mine were as strong and true,
Then I’d leave my home and my hearth my Lord, to come and search for you.



Where do the hours go?
Not lost in song or play
Nor words or books.
But on some ephemeral plain,
Wherein my soul walks
Without my say.

'Tis not part but whole of me,
My thoughts it doth convey
But not from me.
No thoughts come from me.
I am lost, a soul apart,
A placeless being.

The other me dances to a tune unheard,
Whilst my feet take me on paths untrod by others
Yet seeing others there,
we nod and walk away.
All knowing the truth yet still unsure
Where or what we are.

When I awake, the clocks they laugh
At my wondering gaze.
They have marched on
Whilst I have stood still
Walking in a different life
Than one I now inhabit.

Copyright Carole Caple 2009






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