Folded thought of the day:

A Tale for a Holiday Eve 
.... as written by The Daily Editor

As the happy faces are tucked away, snug in warm homes, 
embraced by family and friends, a wandering soul 
makes his way through the night's cracks.  

A tribal gathering is going down in an alley... a pipe 
passing ritual... with canned fire heating the corners, 
projecting flamed shadows on all the faces that pass.  

One hears legends of lost corridors and secret pathways, 
of passages through the night.  Down alleys, through 
backrooms, down stairs -- of finding yourself at the end 
of the road, and bravely stepping forward, into nothing, 
or whatever the night's version of nothing is willing to 
provide.  But not into nothing at all... 

Into a place... where kindness creeps up to greet you, 
informing you of your special place - We've been waiting 
for you reservations; where fantasies run wild... light 
from above burning your eyes cause you can't stop staring, 
Cathedral bells ringing a joyous din, open terrain, horizons 
revealing distance, signs with no hint of motive, seated 
wisdom reciting open-armed verses, inviting interpretation, 
healing all wounds and diseased manifestations, where faces 
never look down, or away, at your passing, where nothing 
matters except your being there, nobody expecting you to 
bring anything you couldn't carry...

... of sins checked by a doorman who winks and doesn't ask 
you to wear their token reminders, nah, he'll remember your 
face should the occasion arise, animals with limbs intact 
running neither towards or away, souls surfacing and shining 
-- lightening the step and flooding all perspective, 
vanquishing need, heightening possibility... 

where the circus is always coming to town, anticipations never 
allowed to be destroyed, agendas taking back seats, hidden or 
otherwise, and listeners wait for finished thoughts, where 
the news never arrives at your doorstep, and the band never 
fails to hit its cue, striking chords that go beyond simple 
showmanship - a call and response to something more fundamental, 
resonating a theme you pick up as soon as you enter, projected 
from hope and on to the heart, a place where dreams come true 
and the falling fly.  

Bringing your own secret wishes to the party, your version, 
your reason for taking that blind step.  Whatever it takes 
to keep you going.  Some buried civilization in full bloom, 
welcoming you in ceremonial fashion, a place at the table, 
taking you into the sacred temple, sharing a set of symbols 
that are meaningful at first glance -- striking down all 
your enemies and holding truth up to the light, yes, yes, 
of course, it all makes sense.  A deal made long ago, coming 
to terms.  A hand-carved destiny...

The legend goes...

Back into the cold night.  And our hero is still wandering... 
gazing up at the sky, eyeing a bright star and casting a 
holiday wish... for directions.