You know that this holiday is more than the misplace birthday
Of the Dessert Messiah
Right?
When you continue to celebrate
An appropriated pagan holiday
For centuries
It seeps into the DNA of your story
And the Thane of Christmas Lore is born
Feudal Vassal to the Architect of Stories
He is both the ultimate sage on what is
Or isnt
A christmas story
He is the predelictated master of every tale thereof
An endless field in swaying grass
Of every perfect snowflake in hoary frosted fields
Sings around a tinsel wrapped tower
That seems to blot out the sun for its shiny immense height
He sits there on a throne
Telling tales for fascinated pilgrims from dawn to dusk
A library of every christmas tale
Pest Present or Future
Galls every nook and cranny of these hallowed minty halls
The miasma of mistletoe holly and poinsettia
Waft the nostrils and symphony the senses
He sits on his Candy Cane throne and speaks
Of Christmas miracles in this
Or any other reality
Understanding the mix of nightmare and beauty
Of sadness and joy
Of banality and miracle
His is a power to be reckoned with
As his demense belies his own
Everywhere the Christmas lights may glow
Electric Fire or Otherwise
Stay a while
Grab a cup of hot cocoa
And Listen
