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There is a story I have heard
about a night in World War I
where moved to brotherhood were they
and so put down their angry guns.
The soldiers on that Christmas Eve
gave not a thought to “side” or “place”.
For just the briefest brightest bit
they looked into each’s others face
and saw the man, the brother, son,
the soul inside their enemy.
They spoke and sang and shared that night
and spent their time in revelry.
When morning dawned, battle returned.
The angry arms picked up once more.
Searching eyes of brother-man
the killing came harder than before,
the killing came harder than before-
If only that time of Christmas peace
could somehow last more than a night.
Shoulder to shoulder as brothers instead,
no more to kill; no more to fight-
the star of Christmas, which is love,
would conquer all and end all war-
would conquer all and end all war!