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12/19/08 - (1)
Claus Santa
When Santa Claus first came into his aimless, empty life, He no longer recalls. All he knows is that when he got right with Santa,
Experienced Him walking by his side, Inside his skin, his body, his whole being, his belief, He knew what it felt like to be born again.
Then it was that he had a friend for life, in Santa Claus, That he'd been saved from eternal damnation, No matter what tribulation he might cause others to suffer,
Saved in the glorious name of Santa, God's only Son, Who was born to bring toys and necessities To good little girls and boys, young and old alike.
Whether this revelation, this call to receive Santa, Came to him at age three or thirty-three wasn't an issue; What mattered was that it did come, in the flesh, his flesh,
And with it a life devoted to idolizing material goods — Stuff, things, gewgaws, bibelots, gimcracks, gadgets, lucre — Knowing Santa would bless his avariciousness.
He required no church, no congregation, no minister, To serve as an earthly intercessor for his faith, Rather worshiped strictly apart, in his heart,
As was evidenced by his arguably anomalous idiosyncracy, Which had begun, a dozen or so years before, When he took to wearing one of his many Santa Claus outfits
(Replete with black jackboots, fluffy white mustache and beard, And the de rigueur white-trimmed red raiment and cap), To his job at Target, where he stocked shelves —
A job he was particularly partial to, Because he could do it so well, without supervision, undisturbed, Losing himself, for hours, in his religious fervor for Lord Santa.
Furthermore, the manager had no quarrel with his attire, Since the predominantly red outfit reflected Target's signature hue. And things were good, until the night before that Christmas
When, practicing a chimney descent, in his rented duplex, He got stuck, then, tragically, slowly froze to death — A fitting crucifixion for a disciple in Claus Santa.
12/19/08 - (1)
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