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|So ancient a festival ought touch the heart,
Even in its rather recent forms.
As light returns, the looking glass of art
Still reflects one's paleolithic norms.
One knows the days have reached their darkest hour,
Needing some shared sign to mark their turn,
Sensing that in symbols there is power,
Given inner depths one might discern.
Remember, then, that mangers and menorahs
Elucidate a more inclusive need,
Embodying what testaments and torahs
Try to say to those whose hopes recede.
In everyone, beneath the ice of reason
Now swim the joyful offspring of the season,
Grateful for the miracle of light,
Singing through the bitter winter night.