TO BE A SIGN


Fries, grates, garnishing, fish, shrimp stews and steaks, stuffed stock of turkey n’ beef
Smells rise, scents to savour envelope, develop single sided soaps
I watch an opera repeated in whose honour? seated guests and merry-faced audience?
Noise in the city centre, beats bang and blast out of speakers, hit songs
Season’s excitement, feverish feel, energetic struggle through street’s crowds
Rowdy markets flooded by humans and their sorts
Morphs of many cares, party-minded concerns
Joy declared, the time is here
It’s a birthday; but where’s the celebrant?

The biggest bash ever, always, annual rave
Street parties brew putrid atmosphere, swirl in lewd swill: celebrating who?
Madman-like drive style stuns thousands, rests several “in peace”: celebrating who?
Moguls sift through streams of figures saying gains, rub rot-ridden palms in glee: celebrating who?
The buzz about the season flies about, on wings of unbelieving sails
“He never was” say they, but “cool thing, his party is”: you kidding me?
Kids unwrap strapped gifts, but the celebrant’s offered null
Hugs and kisses for friends and more, but none for the main man
Our reveling- his tears?
Our indulgence- his being left out?
Our great time- leaving outside indescribably joyful eternity?

The sign is the gift, the love is the clarion call
Mulling about the mall, materialist craze, debased jewel life lived otherwise is
The sign is a twinkling star in the sky so high, above earth so low, in need of being raised
Your other option is vagueness as
living, question mark on ultimate aim
The sign is the bubble on chubby cheeks of children, before Christmas gifts fade, innocence taken away
He came to bring back the peace, to bridge to the best side, the aside of present fallen-ness
The Day of the Lord is here, is coming
Embrace joy, lest it be disaster soon after
Let light not be embarrassment, but relief, the basis for death of base forts
Found your joy on faith in him, be freed from fate-driven celebrations
Rejoice, for the saving Celebrant has come

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