A Christmas World on a Holiday String

Christmas fantasy for some, and reality for others.

The tree looked beautiful
In the same way that an actress
Can decieve the world
By dressing up her body
To hide her true nature.
Beautiful lights and brillant tinsel
Gently caress the soft boughs
Of the proud evergreen:
Vile temptresses that seek
To seduce and corrupt.
It may have been something else
Other than the scent of death in the air
(Which ironically smelt of pine)
That caused me to wallow
If only for a minute
In the depression that arises
When you witness the majestic
Upon their knees
Withering to the tunes
Of love and laughter.

I turned my attention
To one of the globes that hung
Revolving slowly on a string
That had been attatched with care
To the bough.
The crimson sphere appeared to morph
In color and texture
Until I beheld in my hand
The world
And the souls of millions;
The tree valiantly upheld
The weight of the world
(An immovable Atlas)

The only thing that held the world
Above the death that waited below
Was the string that was attatched
To the tree which lives
But slowly dies
Amongst existential friends