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)