Gifts

Fear not of me, for

I seek nothing that you have

Said the poet

Nor what you might offer

or give

I simply want my peace 

That wish was taken, long long ago

And that

We shall share

In this dread

These planted snares

We walk

Amongst trees...

To with these gifts

We simply bare

Gold, the souls of youth

Innocence

Purity of creation

To raise them high

With angels fly!

Frankinsence

The spirits flight

To restore

Angelic sight

in your winter, the worthiest balm

Myrh

To embalm you, your grace and words

so Preciously...

In your gifts

the Truths in words of Peace

we offer ourselves

in these gifts, of three

In the spirit of Christmas

What gifts

Shall we bare...?

(c) Jason Christopher 2018

A more spirital surreal thought for Christmas