is Love alive?

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear

Please, appear. Just appear. It’s time.

Israel is so much larger, scarier than it was before, and we have become a disease upon ourselves. We rape what we can’t have, we steal instead of earn, we lord over each other with wealth, and possession, and finery. We chase success instead of satisfaction, we ravage instead of grow. We hurt instead of heal. We hate instead of love. We turn everything that is blessed into a sin. Simply because. Simply because the two basic rules you gave us, rules that even a small child understands, we have decided we can not – will not – accomplish. We will NOT love you above all else. We will NOT love our neighbor as ourselves. We will not, damn You. You, in Your wisdom, offered us a choice. We, in our willed ignorance, have made it.

Please appear. Please. So that we might finally be able to…

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

•••

ARGYLE: Mind if I play some tunes?

MCCLANE: How 'bout some Christmas music?

ARGYLE: That is Christmas music.

This is Christmas music… As “Christmas” as I’m able to provide today.

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Briefly… The Fay Moore Song Prompt edition

You knew it was coming. You heard the wind slapping itself madly against the window of your mind. The memories, now turning crimson and gold, now in the wind, dead, now gone, trampled under foot.

You knew it was coming, because you’d seen it before. “Not me,” you said, just like all the others, the “not-meers” who came before you, all of whom disintegrated in the final scene.

Your sun burnt hands begin to shiver as the cold sets in. Your sun burnt hands… are they yours? Are they someone else’s? The memories drift farther away as your mind recedes into it’s own dark closet, the black hole that is slowly eating It’s way outward.

The winter song becomes louder, blaring its rickety tune. It’s calling for you now, you know. One last memory before you heed its call – leaves, drifting by the window, leaves tumbling, red and gold…

•••

My Blogging Buddy Fay Moore was nice enough to use my suggestion for one of her ongoing song prompts. In a rare example of not being a total and utter douche (and because she usually otherwise uses songs that far exceed my ability to play along), I decided to throw in my two cents on the matter this time. I was about a sentence in when I realized that instead of the love lost I thought I would be writing about, my 150 words (I’ve no idea – 150 just sounded about right) would be instead about the good people in my life who I’ve seen fight, suffer with, and die from Alzheimers disease. You knew me without ever knowing me, but this is for you, Jack.

Now, here’s Keely and Louis, performing the bestest version of “Autumn Leaves” that has ever been slapped down on wax: