. . . for it is Christmas

Raise a glass high
Higher, so everyone knows you are overjoyed
Crash your glass against mine
Be gentle; So we don’t spill these drinks
Adorn your face with a smile
Jokes are to share, and laughs are in abundance
May the cheer of the season be yours
May the joy of the day fill you
Have this warmth in your heart
Have the excitement in your soul
For it is, my dear, Christmas

For every heart is tuned to one music
And all ears are tuned to this sound
Every feet moves to this beat
And every being is warm to this feeling
This ecstatic sound; feeling; beat of excitement
Be of good cheer, for it is Christmas
Be of good cheer, my dear
It is Christmas, and the cheer must be abundant
The spirit is in the air . . . or the bottles
The joy is contagious
And all must be infected
Bask in the lights, food, and gifts
Bask in them all, for it is Christmas

But. . .
But why should I be excited?
What if I am immune to the excitement?
Is it really that infectious?
What if the rhythm of my heart remains steady
And my belly rumbles no more than normal?
What if the lights seem no different?
Neither do the sounds I hear?
Am I immune to this excitement?
Or have I been cursed with something else?
For my heart is filled, neither with joy nor sadness
No sorrow or excitement
It wakes in the morning, and carries its burdens
My days are neither brighter nor darker
The stars don’t sing any better
Neither does the sky seem more coloured

Please. . .
Do not pay attention to these ramblings
For the blues seem at home in this heart
Please, carry on with the cheer
For I will raise my glass to your excitement
And crash my glass with yours in joy
For I know, with certainty
According to my calendar, these lights, and the sounds
I know, that it is Christmas