It is at Christmas that one yet reflects
on the partisan nature of the birth,
where the chronicled event yet defects
from being celebrated by all on earth,
that makes it seem to some real, yet to others
mythical in elements science smothers.
It is one thing to stand in awe of grandeur
in nature, where phenomena have lost
their divine association, another,
of supernatural effects, the riposte
annuls; and of those who are taken in,
but a closed sphere of religious persuasion.
In this manner are all faiths justified,
or lack of any, where with understanding
all co-habit the earth, affirmed, denied,
the big picture itself but countermanding
the logic of science that makes appeal
to reason, but proves it takes more to feel
reality – this, after all, is what
religion defines, even its negation,
in appetitive affection, and not
cold analysis, the form of creation
that fulfils what is in the moral sphere
obliged, what is felt as truth derived here.