A Xmas Carol
A Xmas Carol
Every year at this hour on the 7th day,
a spirit known as a Ghost
or a one who picks up the death
that for this season my spirit sings
Carols for Xmas till the 21st.
And I flew above the reflecting sparks of joy
among each children's family, regardless of what culture or riches, for the newly alive it was of mine to eye, singularly will every child have the dry fruits, lights and orange, clove and cinnamon scents, to dream of joy,
to trust is possibly to have a toy, to play being special and listened from the adult's scene.
As a last breath soul it was of mine to touch the lost, and then had paused coming down a girl of graciousness.
As her many others had visit without being seen, for their mother they missed, for a greedy world perhaps who runs after entertainment and getting first. I couldn't even whisper as death has other ways to transform, so hugging in her in an aura of bliss, opened a portal for into a journey of my own, bring her mother back and
the richness of her own family. Without knowing way or how, a glimpse in a thin ray of light curved through her golden strands who posed near her neck and heart.
I could not show her or tell her, she could not see me or touch me, but would she trust in tomorrow, in this very today
in the fight of a mother to find her place with her is real. So, as a radiant few tears doped, I left in search in depth.
Some how next to her, her brother was trapped in a book, were she read him stories and they dreamed of true love, eternal love, he could see the boy in the book as if it was him. And they hugged each other and they laughed, without knowing my soul was around it. And I expanded my aura unconditionally, looking out for murder.
If the Goddess of the Night, my mother would tell you how many candles she lighted for us as stars are in the Cosmos, you wouldn't realise how generous she has being to make you remember with my emptiness of hateful. Despite the greedy man, she hanged all her goods from work, to see the children simply childlike to grow up without leaving her behind, they twirled and tried to learn how to place the ornaments, as we did, as we did, to a mother's enlightenment
to her children be.
And when father was around, among man to his world,
a grown up man to his own. Were would he share is childlike? If he ever had a playful day for us?
So I knew, I knew that as is the 7th day In London, and as The God of Greed he is, made my way
through death for dead am I to kill the ends,
of an old gentleman. And as arrows speed into the heart of the matter there he was, counting his coins, among papers and many people's taxes, debts as well. In his bed, an only candle, to consume him candidly, why would he invest for more?
This is a night neared, quietly, mortifying his sleep to wake a little more. Yes, he fears me dearly, for who am I than his last day. And he had seeing him self hiding under the bed, standing next to me as a soul. "Come with me you little mother f***er, I'm going to show you all that you are missing
and how much you had taken,
before I take you down to Hell."
(...It will continue)
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