The snow whistled round in deep circles,
Each flake shining with colorful light.
The snowbanks drowned out the pavement
On that empty, dark, cold Christmas night.
Old Marley’s Pub was rife with those bums;
Every tortured and twisted lost soul
Stumbled through here for some warmth and some beer
And to ensure that their story was told.
That was my job, as Marley’s old bartender:
To listen to each drunkard’s ruin.
Their sorrows rank from the whiskey they drank,
Weeping from tales of misfortune.
Midnight was nearing, that particular Christmas,
And the customers now started to thin,
When the door let in a sharp winter blast
And a man swept in on that wind.
His clothes were tattered and soiled
And his hair fell in thick, dirty strands;
But his eyes shone like glittering round baubles
As he furiously rubbed his large hands.
The crowd paid no attention to the stranger
As he floated straight up to the bar
And sat down on a stool right before me,
His face lit by the evening star.
“What have you tonight, dear stranger?
Take your time, for I’m here to serve.”
He smiled, his crowns stained disgustingly black,
“Isn’t there someone who would better deserve?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
His implications made little sense.
“May I tell you a story, friendly bartender?
There’s no reason to get all that tense.”
“That’s my job in this house, believe it or not,
To hear the customer’s narration.”
He chuckled “Trust in me, and you will see,
‘Tis not on I you must expend all your patience.”
“For I tell you correct, meaning no disrespect,
That you seem at the end of your rope.
You care too little for yourself, and thus
On this Night of all nights, you lost hope.”
The snow whistled round in deep circles,
Icy tears trickled down my stone face.
He was right; after one drink too many
My wife left me in total disgrace.
I didn’t heed to her desperate pleas,
The pleasure being unconquerable.
It all went too far, and she packed up and left…
Oh, how could I be such a fool?
“You despair for your pitiful state
Thinking that you are alone because of your sin.
But you forget that, tonight, it is Christmas.
If not now, then never to mend.”
“My friend, the Father lost not love
When his children constantly spat in his face.
And on this sacred Night he sent his Son down to Earth
To graciously die in their place.”
“You consider yourself completely unworthy
Of the forgiveness you desperately need.
Remember on this Night, above all others,
Ask, and you shall receive.”
The snow whistled round in deep circles,
He and I the only ones left in the bar.
I replied, “She won’t want to hear me.
And I’m sure that her love’s fallen far.”
The man spoke in the gentlest rasp,
“It’s time that you went to the phone.
You know well as I, on this Night of all nights,
That love cannot stand to be lone.”
He rose from his seat with a sigh
And slid silently ‘cross the floor.
Then, without looking behind him,
He stopped, motionless, at the door.
“You’ll regret if you refuse to forgive
Or to give all your feelings for her.
On this dark Christmas Eve, do remember,
That comfort is the thing most sought for.”
The snow whistled round in deep circles
As the realization dawned in my mind;
By giving up, I throw away love,
And love ne’er again will I find.
It’s foolish to make suppositions
Of the people we care about most.
If we could all just learn the forgiveness
Gave by the King of the Heavenly Host.
We all are unmistakably human;
Within each of us countless flaws.
To look past the similarities of our sinful nature
Is to find the sinless nature of God.
That love is what brings us together
Not that which breaks us apart.
We must all learn to love when we’ve lost hope of loving
And find true forgiveness in heart.
Then I looked towards the door for the man,
But the man wasn’t there to be found.
When I was thinking, he must have got tired from waiting
And walked out the door without a sound.
I stumbled into the snow in pursuit
As if guided by a hope-induced trance.
I was met with nothing but snowflakes and dreams
Sweeping on in their magical dance.
The tinsel was wrapped round the lampposts,
The wreaths on the doors were all hung,
The tree in the square put an ache in my heart
And prompted me onwards to run.
The snow whistled round in deep circles,
But the words of that ghost lingered on;
If we hold back the love that we were all meant to give,
Pretty soon that love will be gone.
We are blinded by a selfish perception
And cower for fear we could not atone.
I’ve kept my wife waiting alone long enough.
It’s Christmas: We all should be home.
Morning's Early Dark 