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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