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The Bliss of Hamattan III - Reflections

I

Twist and turns, flashbacks in me, burn..
With fury in my head..
Mem'ries of years past, dead and gone..
Flickers with pain instead..


Times when the dry winds spoke like whips.
Lashed on the skin of they..
Who knew not how to keep their lips..
From ranting everyday..


Songs of Christmas, songs of his birth.
Songs of tear-slain goodbyes..
When the tempest watched to its death.
Victories won in its eyes..


Weathered in ashes of his love.
Smouldered to thanksgiving..
Ensnared with blessings from above..
In-spite our misgivings.


Spirally, mem'ries in me burn,
Like cinders in my head.
Mem'ries of deeds done, dead and gone.
Flickers in white and red..


II

The white hue tinted atmosphere..
Brings reflections of clay..
When dust enclosed the hemisphere,
with hymns in Christened play..


Of stars above the dark blue sky.
Of histories made of dawn..
Of chords played amidst fireflies..
Of salvation reborn.


While we strayed towards paths of sin..
And took his death in vain..
And made his name, shadowed, unseen..
And made him weep in pain..


He brought us in, he made us see,
The wonders of his love..
Into his avalanche mercy,
He cleansed us by his blood.


Spirally, reflections is spawn..
With rhythms in my head,
Of two thousand years dead and gone..
Sewn in memories thread..


III

While the yuletide speaks of his birth..
Let's reflect on the man..
Who in love, died to defeat death..
And placed on it a ban.


While in travails we chant the hymns.
That brought us to his grace..
Let our minds sleep on cradle beams..
Of sunset as we gaze.


That we may rest as bliss resound,
In cities made of gold..
That tears may find joy and abound..
In seasons as of old..


With chickens, turkeys, rice and stew..
Extol this son of man..
With joyous tunes, of songs that blew..
The bliss of hamattan..


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