The day slips into memory; the storm
No longer keens among the weary trees.
A savage people in their anguish freeze
Before the God who wears a human form.
Stilled is the sound of battle, stilled the cry
Of pain, and stilled the voice of hate and fear—
For one brief moment all creation hears
The hush that echoes farther than the sky.
This night begins a day that for all time
Becomes the dawn of Time; the dream ignites.
The candle that alone withstands the night
Will kindle yet a flame to save mankind.
Listen for the laughter of the stars:
A child is born; tomorrow will be ours!
– M.A. Moore