First there is light. We are made to believe that all is more than just fine. Heralded by a wail is a new birth. Before the rain falls waltzes in slowly, intoxicating, that smell. And yes, Christmas with the carols. Then dawns the new year.
But what is it that we celebrate-the Eve. Once alight who cares the beginning or the end. The day repeats itself as does the year, just as José Arcadio Buendia saw the sun set and rise to set again upon him, discovering then that all days were the same, the world had come to a stop. All was still.
Just the same way, the marrow of Christmas is sucked, SPAT! When the wine runs dry leaving the mind turbid to kiss the wishes goodbye for another year. So the newborn’s wail precedes shattering of the glass palace of your dreams. You think she has your eyes and his sweet smile. But what words would she speak and what demons in her eyes would you see. A streak of light across the sky to mark the end of the Star falling.
The beginning ebbs to become the end. Just a question of relativity. A flame snuffed by the wind, but among Gods glows ceaseless, though They wont even need it!
First there is light, then you fight darkness, when it drags you shearing the sides of your spirit, your will. Do you feel it burn still? Or have you anointed your wounds with words. Did this ink help you release it to the outer space? Do you fear being caught in this web again? They shall come again and jolt you out of the reverie so sweet. They are not too far, they are on the reddy all the time, soon they shall pounce.
Say, fear not the ghosts, the demons from hell or worse, no. They bear secrets and tales you won’t otherwise know. Fear not the storms and the rain, they come from afar and witness to all you have never and may never see. Fear not the thunder, for it freezes the enemy and you alike, keeping all at bay. Fear not the odours of decay, they rise from a past you would never learn of. But run, run fast and far and turn not to look, for I fear what you may have to see.