Christmas

Cacophony of lights,
A gilded web; merry of men harkens
The mewlings of a thousand phoenixes.
Incandescent, a glorious burn,
Yet empty and phantasmal, dour be of greed
And insatiable pursuits.

The siren's call -
Beautiful swansong that cajoles
That same vanity, egging the fervent.
Dancing o'er the bones,
Mirthful cackling to the hollow dead, whose sockets see
Naught but rueful tears.

The child strays.
The fiendish mob licked their wry lips,
Beholding the patron with salacity.
'Come to us!' they screeched, midnight ravens
Pecking, pecking, pecking. Another stained glass;
Bloody and shattered.