My childhood: wasn't it once a fabulous dream? A heroic tale to be inscribed on golden leaves? To what criminal error can I presently owe my feeble form? You, who believe that dumb brutes grieve and beasts of burden weep, account for ME! and explain my decline, my slumber!
I am without the faculty to do so myself, just as the vagabond is, likewise incapable, despite a mouth full of Pater Nosters and Ave Marias. I have lost the faculty of speech.
It is of no importance; my story of Hell is over. It happened in the ancient Hell, behind the steel doors that men say Jesus opened.
As in the desert I wander, at nighttime my eyes fly skyward to the Silver Star. This though the Kings of Life, the Three Mages of Heart, Soul, and Mind, remain stoic.
So when do we depart for the shores? For the mountains? To herald the coming of the New Work? New wisdom, and the overthrow of tyrants, demons, and the adorers of superstitions.
(drum roll)
The first! CHRISTMAS ON EARTH!
The Song of the Heavens! The March of the People!
Let not the serfs utter oaths against life!
About the Creator
Tom Baker
Author of Haunted Indianapolis, Indiana Ghost Folklore, Midwest Maniacs, Midwest UFOs and Beyond, Scary Urban Legends, 50 Famous Fables and Folk Tales, and Notorious Crimes of the Upper Midwest.: http://tombakerbooks.weebly.com
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