underneath the Christmas Tree

underneath the Christmas Tree 

Everything 

you have ever 

seen,

touched,

smelled,

or purchased 

was taken from this earth

it was made from dirt,

C.S. Lewis knew this

and created his Narnia 

so that when it was new

it’s soil 

was the magic of his world,

enter ACT II

leave the bedroom 

through the wardrobe 

and it’s then

that one lamp post 

sprouted into two.

It doesn’t take long for magic 

to divide men

into two groups:

MOUNTAINS

or 

MONSTERS,

and when 

an honest man

witnesses beauty,

he’ll stand up 

atop the valley

and appreciate the view,

but a MONSTER

pays different dues.

The department store

has aisles 

of rows

of things 

they didn’t make,

The Magician's Nephew,

an origin story

for all that’d come after:

Uncle Andrew 

wasn’t the MONSTER,

but his corruption 

was that he wanted to duplicate

what had already been;

imitation is flattery,

but a counterfeit product

is the tragedy of mankind.

The Three Wise Men

saw a star in the east

and like a beacon to truth

they followed it all the way through,

a King said,

“Go to Bethlehem

and search

and when you find the child,

report to me,

so that I may come too.”

Queen Jadis,

King Herod,

me and you;

the evil lies

in the misrepresentation of truth.

Gold,

Frankincense,

and Myrrh

were the gifts from the Magi,

when

was the last time

you looked underneath your tree? 

Is it forgery

to celebrate 

a season

when you don’t believe

the reason

behind it

or 

can you partake in the party

while keeping your heart

to yourself?

Shiny wrapping paper

like

Edmund eating candy,

a Turkish delight

on such a night,

this dirt on my hands

must mean 

I’ve been working

on my own story.