If the stars flow in our hearts

Little children love Christmas. Blessed are their hearts. When you have a significant other, Christmas becomes a joy. The heart that rejoices is lovely. However, when you become an adult who has lived life to a certain extent, Christmas feels a bit sad. A baby born long ago to bear all the sins makes us downhearted. Our hearts sink further when we think that not only that baby but all of us were once babies and that we also carry the heavy burden of life.

Today, I am reading a poem for adults' Christmas, which is neither sweet nor exciting. The poem begins on a cloudy and cold winter day. The cold makes people flinch, and the mind cringes more from chills and famine. But that's not all. Stars flowing in our hearts, hands in earnest prayer, and white snowflakes placating them: a closer look reveals small lights that cast light upon a grim outlook in this poem.

Despair seems rather big, and hope seems small, but we are bound to be led by it because hope is beaming. I hope this poem waits for you like a gift under the Christmas tree in your heart.