What is Christmas to you?
A babbling baby king in a cradle
Of filth? Angelic Angels singing like
Children. Happy? Three poor lowlife’s, high up on
Mountains
Counting constant flocks? Lives never worse, ever better.
First to -lay tired eyes on
The savior
Of mankind?
Think about it
How hard must it be?
A man on wood.
Rejected by
Father. Flock scattered, should I help?
No
He wouldn’t want that… Father’s word
Joseph?!
No, father of us all.
Snow falls onto the child’s
Footprints
His first snow, dirty blond hair
Flying freely. Mother watches on from the
Clear window.
So much love. Love for
The Father, the father
The son, the son.
Turkey’s ready love.
Love like Chestnuts
Roasting in the dying
Embers. Until
Another log get’s added
Then the fire. Burst to life
Once more
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