The Gift of the Sleeping Magi


"But in a last word to the wise of these days
let it be said that of all who give gifts,
these two were the wisest.  
Of all who give and receive gifts,
such as they, are wisest.  
Everywhere, they are wisest.  
They are the Magi."
O. Henry

The woman, traveling alone, thru dangerous
West Side badlands, dancing lands,
where resident fairies, ex-ballerinas all,
magical mystify a passerby's thoughts,
mesmerizing them with their mercurial maneuvers,
tango dancing upon shimmering glass pieces,
enslaving all who gaze upon them forever,
turning their captives into sleeping beauties.

Restlessly awaiting her return,
the hombre-lover early retires
to the bed chamber,
weary from another day's
woeful world worries,
long past midnight, he awakens,
disoriented, discombobulated,
and alone.

Fearing the worst,
he summons her return with text spells
and magical ringing cell's bells,
all to no avail.

He dresses,
readying for the search,
to bring her home.

Ready to depart,
he opens the door,
only to find the woman
asleep before their door.

Unwilling to awake
her sleeping hombre,
she gifts him a
rest undisturbed.

Shoulder grasped, elbow guided,
her eye glasses surgically removed,
he returns her to their bed,
to complete her own rest.
instantly, she is re-gifted,
colliding with a gravity pulling her,
into a pleasurable deep sleep.

Now wide-eyed awake,
the hombre muses and
poetry pens this tale
of his restless confusion.

O. Henry's words refurbished,
rise up, infiltrate his consciousness.

Of all who give and receive gifts,
even the simplest,
rest undisturbed, rest completed,
they are the wisest,
everywhere they are wisest.

They are Magi.


2::03 AM, a few years ago.