Christine, Santa Clause is here bearing the gift of fullfillment you
seek. Your poem reveals a somewhat dark yet longing world. In this
scenario, you shall never come to know joy as permanence, but, rather,
the experience of joy as momentary wet fumblings in a chaotic world.
Yet, Christine, your close, so very close. I have noticed your
thread busy with the fumblings of cowards who choose a delusional
world, that is, a comfortable and familiar world, as opposed to the
hard reality offered on this thread. They truly believe they know
what they're talking about. But, it is where it is safe and their egos protected.
But, perhaps, that is what Christmas is all about...going back to
the familiar, to the comforting warmth of childhood, and to the unquestioned quarantee of love. Going back to where it is safe.
Santa Clause's log is crackling with heat. You are so close, Christine. Must go. Merry Homagen Day! |
