Holiday Dangers
by Odin Roark

‘Tis greater to give than receive,
begging the question: “Of what?”

Stuff remains the easy answer,
cloaked in its brightly colored paper and ribbons,
urging “Oohs and Ahs” from receivers
few can resist .

But what of a kind gesture in place of goods,
the finding of compassion and sympathy for the truly less fortunate,
exercising that ephemeral spark of humanity once primary,
but now rapidly becoming an endangered principal of our species.

Hope hangs on…

The aware heart knows,
like much of nature,
humanoids can’t last forever,
that gathering of a materialistic image,
buttressing the seductive illusions of generosity,
be they religious or secular,
knows only an all-consuming downward spiral,
a self-destructive glitter that blinds
as it drills deeper into itself,
disintegrating at the end
into the loss of “caring,”
fate’s special delivery to a wide-awake darkness.

How habitual these temporal leanings.

How belittling to what innate mankind once was.