You can listen here. I feel this song on many levels. Found and borrowed from Miss Pattie's site.

All the streets are filled with laughter and light
And the music of the season
And the merchants' windows are all bright
With the faces of the children
And the families hurrying to their homes
While the sky darkens and freezes
Will be gathering around the hearths and tables
Giving thanks for God's graces
And the birth of the rebel Jesus

Well they call him by 'the Prince of Peace'
And they call him by 'the Savior'
And they pray to him upon the seas
And in every bold endeavor
And they fill his churches with their pride and gold
As their faith in him increases
But they've turned the nature that I worship in
From a temple to a robber's den
In the words of the rebel Jesus

Well we guard our world with locks and guns
And we guard our fine possessions
And once a year when Christmas comes
We give to our relations
And perhaps we give a little to the poor
If the generosity should seize us
But if any one of us should interfere
In the business of why there are poor
They get the same as the rebel Jesus

Now pardon me if I have seemed
To take the tone of judgement
For I've no wish to come between
This day and your enjoyment
In a life of hardship and of earthly toil
There's a need for anything that frees us
So I bid you pleasure
And I bid you cheer
From a heathen and a pagan
On the side of the rebel Jesus.

                            (Jackson Browne)

CHRISTMAS  =  EXHAUSTION

I dream of the Great Smoky Mountains. I dream of sitting by crackling fireplaces glowing warm. There is a knock on my cabin door from those who would bring food in baskets, already cooked and ready to eat; I sip my brandy as we all serve each other the warm foods.

I dream of children singing outside my cabin window after supper; and pups barking as they run through the snow toward the sounds of tingling bells further down the hollow. I dream of the train whistle as the coal black machine winds its way through the mountains on tracks made to last, for the marking of history. I dream of deep and fluffy snow, just right for wallowing in.

I dream....

Of a holiday where the deeper things we think about, or believe, are not confounded and confused with tradition and activity. A time and a place where only love in its purest form abounds, encompassing all people, and seems neverending. I dream of feel good moments where joy and laughter try to outdo one another, and sighs come only as a rest in between the next jolt of both. I believe that love and joy of this kind is God, and creator; and everything to do with why we are here, all rolled into one.

I dream of such a time each year. A time when we don't have to wish one another a happy holiday or a merry Christmas, because we are all already in the midst of such a thing, and have no need for more good wishes. I dream of a time when rest is pleasant and peace is plenty...

I dream of friends and loved ones who would not be left wanting for anything needed.

I have to believe there may just possibly be such a time as this... a holiday someplace beyond my dream; beyond war; maybe not in the Great Smokys, I don't know where.

Why would I keep enduring the struggle of life, if my dream could not be possible?