Christmas In the Grave Yard

I have made a solemn vow that I would not spend my fourth Christmas in this grave yard but from all indication my shadow is running all over the place and my one and only friend is trapped in an unfamiliar embrace. It is hard to express how I am feeling but something has left me dry, empty and reeling. An unusual current is circulating in my belly pulling my muscles apart and draining my spiritual energy. It’s electrifying, it’s resounding and it is conforming. It is the feeling you get when some things are out of place and you are boxed in a corner with the walls pressing on both sides and something from inside is choking the daylight out of you and your only refuge is to cling to the ceiling and listen to the silence as it creeps slowly towards the heavens. And then the old minstrel gathered around looking for a crown that was not to be found and the grey hound’s crawling on its belly with eyes affixed on the stone begins to groan and moan. The pigeon is flying high in the sky, it is carrying a message bidding the scavengers goodbye while the cardinal rises from ground and disappeared underneath the clouds. I can still hear your voice ringing out loud in the street and I can your face on every bill board in town and I can see your feet dancing on the sandy shore and your spirit is crying out for more. Someone believes that I am not human and kept wondering how I could endure this for so long but I tell them that it’s just because of you why I am holding on. I want to climb to the top of the mountain with you and hold the torch together and light up the world with our faces and travel to unknown places and build castles for all races. Take me out of this grave yard now!