This is a sad twist on an old tale  — a carol for our present circumstances.

Why won’t Wise Men deliver their gifts?

They have displayed the glittering promise

from the backs of their awkward  mounts,

circling  endlessly in the  featureless  waste.

Shepherds cannot point the way,

they search for their scattered sheep

dispersed by the predator’s smell

or the brazen lure of a better  life.

Please show me the strong stable?

We have no Star , there is no lightness

in the peoples heart,  just emptiness.

Trust no stranger for directions!

This year, the dark  brings confusion,

no resting merry gentlemen, but much dismay.

Black Friday will not succour us, nor satisfy

our over-valued  sense of worth.

We are the lowing cattle, our manger

kindling for the Wise Men’s  fire.

Straining to hear, in the growing wind,

a pealing bell that rings a true note.

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