Beyond the honey meadows of the Earth, where forests reach the skies
There sleeps a lonely soul in mountain ridges, where peaks are only higher.
He wears a beard of frost and has the snowflakes, hidden in his eyes.
He is unique, but same as any other wonted man, who is afraid of fire.
The dusty clock arouses sleepyhead
from lasting dream.
He gets up lazily, peering through the frozen patterns on the glass.
The land is covered in a veil of snow, that looks like freshly whipped cream.
It guards the wild and bears the weight of all the heavens like a great Atlas.
The time has come, where magic lives among the streets, in every icy crack.
When air is filled with smells of ginger bread and mellow tangerines combined.
The spirit steps barefoot on chilly ground, feeling no shiver down his humpy back
And walks away, calming the storms to get into the busy land of humankind.
The countdown to the story with a new commencement has begun.
As passing by the church he hears the choir of Christmas carol far afield.
He stops, to look at the outgoing light of rays of an indistinct sun.
Which is replaced by starry sky along a holy night, illuminating even darkest weald.
A little girl with rosy cheeks ran just nearby the spirit with a laugh.
She saw some children make a snowman, dressing it in scarf and pulling on a hat.
The kids were frolicking on site and forming snowballs with a chaff,
As, watching everything sideways, the staring spirit warmly smiled from that.
The fuss of coming people from the store with heavy bags still lingers in the air.
They rush to their families at home, where lovely gifts await them under Christmas tree.
The people bake fresh meals and wear their classy garbs to get all things prepared.
Let Holy Spirit of New Year set all your hardships and tortuous burdens free.
The frozen moment when the clock beats 12 is filled with secret wills inside our heads.
And all the wishes are echoed to the ghost from millions lands.
He'll bring a lot of well-remembered days or maybe change our lives instead.
As he presents you with a book of plain chapters, where the days of story aren't spent.
YOU ARE READING
Poetic archives
PoetryTHE WINNER OF #ZODIACAWARDS2020 IN CATEGORY "POETRY" "But have you ever thought what makes you feel alive? That gentle ache when we are happy It makes us human beings." Hi everyone! Here you can see some of my art. These writings help me learn my i...
