Christmas
Who pays the ferryman his dues
When judgement day dead ends
In some abyss.
What part of fortune put its
Signature to this.
Some spread of fate
That calls your name
Across the stepping stones
From difference to same
No words explained
Nor stone engraved the sermon
That all must be saved until
The sun in Capricorn
When time stood still
His rising sign to mark
The way.
A cross beyond
The shortest day.
A poem for Historians and Astrologers.
Read again!
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