A child in old Bethlehem was born a frosty night-
Two thousand years of bloodshed was not His intended sight.
Bedlam he was born to (though that word did not as yet exist)-
Has waxed and waned for eons as insanity persists.
“I am the way, the truth, the light,” often is a cudgel-
Certainty one sect has got it down truly is a puzzle.
How weak is Man to think that we can ever comprehend-
The fullness of the universe, that learning has an end.
We all are creatures born of blood, animals with large lobes-
Why accept as truth hatred spouted by those in clerics’ robes?
No simple answer to gore and hate each of us is heir to-
“Peace on Earth, goodwill toward man,” could be our Christmas value.