The seasons come and go, and we retire
Into a book, a series or a show;
To football games, or RPG’s we flee,
Escaping from that thing we do not know,

And yet which haunts us, keeping us from rest.
How beautiful this Christmas was, and yet
The endless January comes, and we
Get lost in worry: illness, failure, debt —

Are these our lives now? Is this all there is?
To decorate our days for little ones,
Our grandkids, laying out remembered joys
As if the season was just lights and toys —

  But this I know, for I live where you are:
  It’s you that warms the fire, and lights the star.