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There is no more powerful light in the dark;
there is no more powerful and beautiful beacon of hope and happiness;
there is no more powerful feeling that you feel beating every second in your heart;
there is no more powerful reaction than sitting back
and marveling at the gift that you wait all year for-
the gift of family, the gift of belonging, the gift of dreams-
covered in flashing lights and tinsel, and festive ornaments,
around your tree of Christmas.
The Christmas tree is an amazing legacy;
the Christmas tree is a symbol of love and family;
the Christmas tree is the most wonderful story of an entire year;
the Christmas tree is the most inspiring and colorful,
phenomenal and emotional experience for some,
because it is something that so many people
have a hand in making it what it is,
and it can be enough to bring you to tears.
Whether it is getting the Christmas tree from the attic
that your family have had and have used
and will continue to use for years to come,
or the fantastic and amazing ritual of actually going
to a Christmas tree farm and picking a real, green,
and still growing pine tree-
everything that comes with the finding and the choosing of the one tree,
the favourite tree, the right tree, is the best and the most exciting ceremony
and custom, and it will continue to be as it has been
since the tradition of the Christmas tree began.
The feeling of a real, freshly-cut, Christmas tree is amazing.
The smell of a real, pine, Christmas tree is so intoxicating.
The sight of a real Christmas tree forest is something you never forget,
and the thought of it takes you back to when you were a child.
The idea and the understanding of what Christmas, family,
life, is all about and why it is important to remember as much as you can
about every moment can be found and felt in the seed that still remains
at the heart of every real Christmas tree.
The decorating of the tree is something that can be enjoyed and made real,
and can be the actual time and moment when Christmas begins-
when a family gathers together and unpacks all the decorations
that they have been saving to use for a whole twelve months-
it can be the cue and the first note that makes your
festive and hopeful heart sing.
For children, it is something that they will always remember
and look forward to all their lives, and it will forever
bring back happy memories for them, and remind them of the real meaning
and importance of why we do what we do;
for adults, the Christmas tree- everything about it-
can be just what they need to give them back something
they may have forgotten, and which they have been missing;
for everyone, Christmas, and a Christmas tree especially,
can be more and can mean more,
and can only feel the way that it does at this time of the year,
and it can be a way of looking forward and looking back in synchronicity,
feeling a part of something already existing,
and also of something brand new.
For the lucky ones who have the real Christmas present every day,
all year round, of having a family around them who they love
and who loves them in return, Christmas can be exhilarating,
invigorating, thrilling, and the most wonderful blessing.
This time of the year means a lot to me.
To me, Christmas is more than a season of gifts and presents
and buying the most, it is about giving and receiving a part of yourself,
a part of someone who means a lot to you, who you love,
and care about unconditionally.
This time of the year means keeping everyone as close to you
as they can possibly be.
To me, Christmas is about coming together
and gathering around what we all share,
and there is no greater thing to assemble around
than a beautiful, and breathtaking, Christmas tree.
Sitting in the park on a beautiful morning,
surrounded by light, life, and sound,
what I am doing feels life-reaffirming,
what I see is phenomenal, stunning, inspiring-
everything feels new, fresh, original, one of a kind,
never been seen before, bright, beautiful, pulse-racing, exciting.
I don’t want to leave.
I don’t want it all to fade-away.
I don’t want to take anything for granted.
I don’t want this to just be another day.
It doesn’t have to be, not if I don’t want it to-
not as long as it is all about the me and the you.
Everyone walks though life at different speeds.
Everyone lives different lives with different needs.
In the city, I see people of all ages and nationalities going about their day:
students coming to and from university,
smart-dressed men and women commuting to work,
children with a day off from school enjoying the sunshine-
as they smile, run-around and play;
kids discovering things with their parents,
parents discovering things about their kids-
from where I am, I see and I embrace
what they will probably never remember or think about
until they get older;
those moments that define a child and a parents relationship with each-other.
It is really nice to see and to read the under-lying language
that only a member of the same family is fluent in and privy to-
those looks and expressions that only they know the meaning of,
which if you are an on-looker it is like a foreign-language,
or a code that you can never know.
You don’t realise how precious time is until you get older
and you see the people and the places that you remember
change beyond recognition;
you don’t realise how much you miss
until someone reminds you of something that you shared together,
that meant so much to you at the time,
but unfortunately got filed-away in the filing-cabinet of your memory-
now only a snap-shot of a moment, which you never meant to ever forget
but which fades over time like an old photograph-
that can be brought back to mind and life
with the help of only the smallest of reminders
and enjoyed again, if it is a good memory,
of a time in your life that you always want to put-away
and rediscover again over and over on a sunny day.
Every day I see someone I have never seen before-
even in places that I have been to a hundred times,
or down roads that I have walked down more times than I can remember.
I see a new face- I see the beginning, the middle,
or perhaps the last chapter of someone’s story-
and every time I share eye-contact with a new person
I cannot help myself from wondering who they are,
who they will be-
I do not judge anyone by how they appear,
because to everyone- even those who you think you know-
there is always more to see.
I cherish the little things about people and about life,
I adore the moments that people freely throw-away without a second thought
that tell you about them- a story that they recite to themselves
when they fall asleep at night.
Sitting seemingly alone on a bench, on a hill,
in a park of untouched green grass,
looking out, looking up, looking within,
I have a moment of ponderance,
and in silence I think about the story that I am writing,
the legacy that I am leaving;
why I am who I am;
why the people and the things that I care so much about
mean so much to me;
why even though I have no one beside me I am not alone-
what that means, and why that is so important to remember.
A flash of light.
The birth of something vast, and yet infinitesimally small.
A seed of life in a perpetual night.
The rise of consciousness, chaos, order, and the legacy of all.
Oceans of energy, tides of infinite direction and dimension,
islands of independence and inter-dependency
all in a constant state of reinvention, floating, twisting, and turning,
on a perceivably black but in reality multi-coloured sea.
Every galaxy, every star, every planet, every quantum of life,
has a legacy and also an ancestry and a lineage to the light
that still illuminates after billions of years-
a celestial bloodline that links every newborn to every nebula,
that stems from the core of every planet
to the heart of every intergalactic pioneer.
The legacy of humanity is the same correlating story as that of the universe,
and has been since that first evolutionary flash-
and that symbiosis will continue to last
even after what we think of ourselves and the world
has returned to dust and ash.
Their are some who fear the unknown depths of their own minds,
just as they fear the oceans of Earth,
or the uncertainty and the confusion of the dark-
such trepidation has a gravity to it that is easy to orbit,
but which at the same time holds them back
and colours their view of the world stark.
Just as the light from stars continues to shine
long after they expel their final solo performance to the audience
of their intergalactic neighbours-
every form of energy, every particle, every person, affects another-
even as it dims and wavers.
The way we were, the way we are, the way we are going,
the way we have always been, and the way we are always going to be,
is life, the universe, the beginning, the end, existing as one,
then and now- and in a word,
that is our legacy.
The Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere 