Christmas is a time of sorrows, where we are constantly reminded that Christ died so that there is no entropy, and we have no end to our misery in life insofar that we have to continue it even if we are dead.
We give presents to one another to comfort ourselves only to find out that we have absolute no use for the things that we receive, and it ends up in the storage room, the purgatory of inanimate objects, before we assign them to the dustbin.
We put up trees, decorate them in a bid to cheer ourselves up, except that the glittering and shining cast a darker shadow over us when we stand at the foot of the green monstrosity. And we wonder how much money and time was spent to put that all up, only to lug it back to the storage after everything was concluded, depriving the people of any further meaning. Meanwhile, another tree was killed for our 'pleasure'.
Year after year, we are cursed to repeat this sacrilegious practice and to complete the horror, welcome the dreaded new year where I inch closer to my grave, seeing it but not able to step into it, despite the assurance by friends.
Small wonder Santa Claus says 'Ho ho ho'.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment