Whilst Sighing

The sun – becomes, above Earth,
Day begins, continues, ends –
As the black of night zips
Over what was, is, can be.
The unchosen, never free,
Caught in fertile beds of futility
Given fulgurant gifts all gladly
Forsaken for opportune normality.
The pain of difference assures
No one, not even those beloved,
Who try, can abide the dysfunction
In every shared moment, evinced.
The production frequent as dandelions
May appear effulgent and glistering,
Yet within mortality harbor shades
Of night, fervent prayer to be light.
They go, they go, whomever, no one
To claim, left desolate, alone –
A song echoes, a melody, tender,
Raising harmonies of incongruous hope.
As blood still flows and thought goes
There is, in essence, no doubt, no dying
Of reason, no treason fomented, to
Dispel the willing drive, Never Give Up!

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

It is Christmas Eve; I feel more like A Christmas Carol than Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I hope the sum of your joy is more significant than my own.

I have an older friend struggling in a fight against Covid. If you would, say a prayer or send a thought for him.

Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative. I hope you found things to your liking. You may follow the site or come again as you may.

As a prompt, create something that shows the depth of your being, then finish with the direct opposite. You may achieve this in any media you aspire to use.

Christmas Eve has always been my celebration of the holiday. I was the kid who would not sleep waiting on presents under the tree. So I am trying to find a little heart and soul.

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