Just Once, Revised

Just once, if my entrance here
came instead down chimney
not to steal St. Nick’s thunder
or revenge by grench on appeal.

Arising my spirit cross past’s future
where Santa and Savior live still-life
in the magnificence of the very young
unassumable choice resigns devoured
without hesitation by shadow’s dream
something alive otherwise for light fades.

I would walk through the walls
but that beat been over winter run
Scifi magic itself is sink with a drain
immune to flow of desires passing
but the peddlers’ junk in street
makes Dracula’s Werewolf howl
something our mech of blech
reminders would call merciful.

Shown for the illusion, repetition
generates less in interior’s face
where slumber is destined event
through which shadows abate
while all rescues long await
in a haze while craziness reigns
requests for help form echoes
saviors’ mistake sheers back
way beyond the individual
so that
here
long ago departed
already our arisen shrinking inner

we are stopped by
would stop nothing
itself

a blind self aware light.

© 11/2004 RJDuberg