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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 'Tis be the night like any, except, this year, the eve will fall on a Sunday. 'Twill be easier for the foxes to appear from their denizens. There'll be time enough for them to put away their shepherd crooks and their masques of necessity. We all have had in our lifetimes, and times before then, 'hints' and or more than that, of who the Almighty be. Just that some of us have room enough for their closets, as their spares are filled with skeletons. 'Je ne sais quoi,' "I don't know what." Who cares? They do. We, who do not wear masque, are reviled for our shameless ways to be seen by their kind. To carry on a despicable manner, in public, of all places. Whether it be on the streets, or in a tavern that is the setting of New Year's camaraderie, the accusations will fly undauntedly. We'd like to believe that they fear the Almighty--just as we do, hence, we are without a masque. Open are we to being, --just, knowing that arrows aim true. The archers have replaced their crooks. Now, that their arrows have flung, they will busy their closets, once again. We will be waiting for them--oh, no ... nothing like that, after all, this is a public space. Our doors, unlike the church that's down a piece, are open to all. Respective of their race, color, sexual orientation, proper age, and, of course, their faiths. Shortly, we will be expecting, --our friends--we never call them by that 'other' word, it's so cliche, and so un ... oh well, be top of the evening, 'twill end a Sinday.
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