The clock on the wall has lost its sound
The snow lies heavy on the ground
We leave the books we read before
And stand beside the open door.
No trumpet blast, no heavy drum
To mark the days that are to come
Just us, and breath, and winter cold
And stories that are getting old.

We count the losses and the gains
Like frost upon the window panes
The heavy coat, the weary shoe
Are left behind for something new.
It is not loud, this turn of time
It does not need a perfect rhyme
It only asks that we remain
Through winter wind and freezing rain.

So let the silence build a home
Where we no longer have to roam
The dark is deep, but we are here
To welcome in the quiet year.
We hold the candle, not the sun
For work that is not yet begun
And in this pause, we find our way
To meet the coming of the day.

The birds are waiting in the trees
For warmer days and softer seas
But we must walk the frozen land
With nothing but an open hand.
We do not know what waits ahead
Or where the winding path is led
But fear is just a heavy stone
We do not have to lift alone.

So let the silence build a home
Where we no longer have to roam
The dark is deep, but we are here
To welcome in the quiet year.
We hold the candle, not the sun
For work that is not yet begun...

And in this pause, we find our way.
The quiet year...
Is here today.

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