dark december

 

When winter hits 

It's no surprise 

And yet every time

We brace ourselves.

The first cold pierces 

Like that knife

That slayed

Our heroes, our 

Spiritual darlings,

All struck down, like,

Like a silent shift 

of the westerly wind.

"Change is coming!"

Whisper the prophets

& The poets capture

The sentiments silently, 

The subversives slide 

Aboard the ship 

That sails the seven seas.

Blown by the 

Truths, the prophet

Mutters: "What is

Right? As surely as

Left is left, 

We will re-write

Forbidden Fruits as

Numerous Possibilities!

Pirate tales tell

True. Take what is

Your due, or take up

Your treasure at the

Rainbow's end. It doesn't

Matter. Dreamer's

Permission is 

Dreamer's Power."

We live our

Winter now. We

Forget the festive

Foolery. Medieval

Men knew better

Than bourgeois

Women pretend to.

I mean

No offense. The

Chaos is surely

Coming. Let us

Welcome it like

A friend in dark

Clothing, who

With hood pulled

Back reveals a

Grinning face.

Festive foolery.

I hear the dead

Speak; they speak 

In riddles. I repeat 

Their riddles: 

Byzantine blue,

Mosaic tiles, 

Labyrinthine rooms, 

A knocking on a

Floor that echoes, a

Sacred space, a

Moorish red, a 

Vegetal arabesque,

An inner cooridor

Without ceiling,

Under a domed sky,

With a spiritual feel, 

And a foreign shudder,

We -- before the door that

Shuts -- imagine Ayn 

Rand born in 1453...

She'd celebrate the

Human Daring of 

Majestic minarets. 

It's all there, like, 

Like a human hard-

Drive hidden in

The back of

A forgotten, un-

Forgotten drawer,

A little musty.

Must we dust off

The memories,

Our memories? 

December, dark

Maybe yet so full

Of witchy magic! 

Un-dress if 

Need do, dance

Around a tree-

Bound fire if you

Must, stay up

Late reading if

You can, catch

Up on sleep if

You want, re-find

Desire. Doing the

Thing that un-

Leashes the 

Possibilities in

Our un-forgetting

Minds. It's--

Well, don't you see? 

-- It's pure math.

You'd rather not? I'll

Do it for us. 

December-- the Twelfth

Month, the darkest, 

Has the most

Factors of them all.

So many ways to cut it, 

The numbers remain

Whole: 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, …

A piercing insight.

Like the knife,

“Change is coming.”

It can happen to us, 

We can welcome it

With ready arms, or

We can make it come.

To change is Life.