The stars sing subtle divine uttering's;
Truths glistening, breathing realities the naked
Ear can only understand in high pitch'ed waves.
Moonlight casting a charm
Over the bony limbs of
Coal colored trees
And the snow is cotton.
Its Christmas Night,
Alone, I bite my lips;
Sensing the presences of astral
Spirits.
Praying and wishing
Into matter the turning
Of a wheel of some Fortune.
Even foul luck is some kind of luck
Dreary day it was today, the
Wrest of the world shut out by clouds.
I wished I'd run into a friendly face and talk
That felt expensive among cordial greetings.
It's Christmas night,
Just like every other night.
(It's the thought that counts.)
Turning
Usually studied faces
To dribble, at lack of Kin
And Spirit.
Is it commercials and Lifetime specials
That awaken a barren-like swelling?
The world still revolves,
And tomorrow is a Promise.
Don't frown over spilled presents,
Enjoy this one while you can...