Christmas is for making Merry
He was buried as soon as he began breathing. “You deny this is your true affect?” A serpent laughs distantly as humanity ponders humanity. “You know I can create anything?!” Men claim disillusionment while constructing elaborate fantasies. A Son approaches in the midst of high holy day revelry, His life said “love me, I will reciprocate eternally.” Then his voice broke in uneven waves, “I’m weeping because you are already dead to me.” * Lives that feed greedily on Spiritual remnants Charity’s strength in dystrophic penance, Salvation’s bell ringing endless, I pass and I snicker, “This society is cashless, goodwill should accept credit.” Our work is to progress, To come to the end of each question, “What is life and why do I live it?” Our shapeless and shifting wills held fast by that permanence. We’ve always kept asking, The same interrogation. Dear God have you answered? Were you dying to visit? Or did you visit to die in human disinterest. You left so quickly and said “Here is my Spirit.” And still I don’t see Him but after each season I feel it Like a river or song inside me, dear Jesus.
