so regular a day, it came
absent majestic procession,
void elaborate flairs
and articulate expression

the trumpets were silent,
without pomp of parade;
without anticipated celebration
or beautiful serenade

so regular a day, it came
to blind eyes and deaf ears;
nestled in among ordinary,
adoring eyes with salty tears

a dull, shameful ache
I can’t bear to hide
the thought of the glory
wrapped in poverty’s thick side

though the earth was still,
the humble moment forgotten,
the bold beginning of new life
of the One and Only begotten