A touch of Christmas

What do you want this Christmas, he asked me, wide-eyed and curious.

I looked around and there between the thistles and the beneficence,

Stood creation, amongst virgin lands, and peaking mountains,

amongst starry skies, a risen constellation,

The silent dreams of man and his quest could be heard in the distance,

some giant, and some like the stars that fall to disappear,

never to be raised again.


Then, she remembers the forested creatures,

As free as the wilderness that remains.


The wisdom of a rooted tree once belonged to freedom.


She wished upon a blinding star once, not for riches or

glory but for the peace that once belonged,

now lost to the thistles that have turned into straws of thorns.


I want a touch of Christmas, she replied.

Against the winnowed skies, a diamond glittered.


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