By Nullus
Among the whispers of a cold winter breeze, A solitary recluse with a heavy painful pace, Betrays years of repentance rattling his knees, Climbs a precipitous road seeking a more sheltered place. He desperately struggles to capture his breath, Clouds of mist reveal the heat of long forgotten passion, Seasonal reminder illustrating death, His memories have dissolved into obscure abstraction. A soft thump from above revives his senses, Reticent shadows of hope descend from snow-covered trees, Momentarily lifting his defenses, The hermit detects a tattered parcel in the debris. Stained wrapping matches the hermit’s weathered coat, Both man and parcel secured with the same knotted frayed twine, Familiar script written in smeared ink on a damp note, Devout prayers to Saint Christopher beseeching the Divine. He kneels to cradle this forsaken parcel, An undelivered wet package of crumbling charity, A snow-globe reveals the crystalline sparkle, Of misguided orphaned lights seeking sublime certainty. Every shake presents a new discovery, Time and space encapsulated in stained glass and liquid, For a man without children or legacy, A simple message of faith and redemption transmitted. Carefully placing the globe in his satchel, The tired hermit continues his solitary journey, Heavy the burden, every step a battle, A snowstorm grows treacherous with every howling flurry. Carrying the sound of an infant crying, Enveloping cyclones pointing to his destination, Will-o'-wisp aspirations for the rising, Glimmering vibrant globe of infinite revelation. Chimney smoke blending into a diamond mist, A peaceful reprieve from the surrounding ferocity, Small and empty manger embodying bliss, Promise of restoration through maternal chastity. Ponderously setting orb in the manger, Fulfillment of promise manifest solitary mime, Voice of perfection whispers to the stranger, This rare gift of devotion was in your soul all this time. © Nullus 2020
Thank you Birovius for your valuable advice.