Black wrapping paper
Tightened stiff with a black tie
Finite beauty, now a Goddess
With a black bow

The Phantom of the wind
How quietly it crept in them
As they slept overnight
Like the four seasons
Only its colour was black
But identifiable with Fall
For it harbored magic
To make their heartbeats fall

And within a releasing moment
Their misery and suffering was cut free
Of this world by the greatest gift of all

The waves that washed ashore
Before the green of my adobe
In which the fish swam in fear
This Phantom crept in every known
Landmark of Mother Earth
Slow the months flew by
Quickly the water began to disappear

When I look in the heart of a youthful rose
I see the invariability of the failures humanity
Shares with one another, all throughout
This monstrous garden regardless
It’s shape of trees or structures
That required forced sweat
Which we all failed to realize
That we owe the dead only the truth

A thousand tears shed
Over unanswered prayers
Proves an already known fool for a fool
For they do not know
That magnificently waxed candles
Melt too soon in a candelabrum
Which holds a thousand lit wicks
For every good deed
By those dearly departed
Went unnoticed

Only when the laughing life
In their mortal bodies dimmed
It offered those fools the cause
To discover the truth for a thousand prayers

We weep and mourn away into night
Bleak is the life of the party, Death
How it sits and smiles at us all, entertaining itself
It drinks avant-garde champagne
As we all coil in our loathed mortality
At the piano seat, Death sits
And plays fervidly
Plaguing the ballroom with a
Feeling of drowse within each note
It strikes

And as we all sleep
Come three ghosts
Of my heart of Christmas
In all shapes of tragedy

Will we adore Mother Nature
For her questionable actions
In which we must pry watchful eyes on
For she does not speak – after she
Glides over those beautiful
Gifts of God and claims their souls?

How grief-stricken the parents
Who sulk in unfathomability
Of the mysterious crime that Death
Danced with their souls for to prove
Such a reason…

Will we come to meet that silent demon
In our farthest corners of our minds
That harbor locked gates by the
Care and love of those we hold dear?

History repeats itself
A book burning, a tower burning
Those eyes that sank in the despair
Of other flowers, and offered
Their last stems and water reserves
Until them themselves realized
They could never give all they could
To attain a love they longed for…

Do we place our trust and faith
In walking creatures that live and breathe
The same world and air we do
To hope and wish for a better world
Out of blindness?

The lone wolves in the snow
Blood-clotted, a wounded heart
Their souls limp, their pride steadfast as a stone
How tragic their plight of misfortunes
Sadly meets a merciful end
By hateful and angelic strangers…

Those ghosts
All withered on top
Of a green stem
From red to black
Overnight as the Moon
Offered no radiating life
Thus, they died alone

But as Daylight
Discovered no more soul
In their vessel
The Sun smiled
Their pain gone

As loved ones crowd their corteges
During the skies painted so blue
By the visionary Sun
No raindrops touched Earth’s soil
For they already suffered their
Final moments of loneliness with Night
Do they deserve this sunflowered celebration

Torn away by years and months
Their magnificence sparkled all differently
Their demise met differently
But now they all become friends
As they sleep happily ever after
Six feet under.