time is blurry. years haze into each
other. events seem to protrude, to dance, to chime. many kids are up,
conscious, alert. today is a miracle, especially, with the present danger.
parents are with joy. most are scrambling eggs, eating fruits, buttering toast.
the pain in the joy, to see a future, colored by human chaos. the beauty in the
beast—the gorgeous physique—the things we tolerate. gifts held to heart.
sentiments bringing a tear. people that had to go. little ones just walking,
born to something unfit, faced by tomorrow. early morning mating, tossed into
emotion, simultaneous holidays. may
days be brilliant, filled with luxuries, filled with human affection. let it be
gentle, relaxed, complete. let souls fly, redemption flourish, inner revelation
becomes peace.
the destiny of senses, intuition, burgundy
skies; faux fur dreams, ten-piece sets, coffee over a warming fire. 101
ornaments, a new cashmere robe, fluffy house shoes. a race track for him, a
doll house for her, and 30 minutes of peppered silence for adults. over yonder,
a picture on a bookcase, a flowered dress, a romantic air—flames inside,
morning greetings inside, terrific rain, snow, sleighs, icemen.
to share in traditions, to eat similar
foods, to pray to an Ideal Image—these connect societies, bash color
differences, makes for love, in a harsh environment: an attack on souls, so
unforgiving, many more will succumb. while today is another memory, more
beauty, more sentiments.
