Once upon a time there was the silver star,
which inspired poets, lovers, lunatics and ballets in zero gravity,
from Michael Jackson on down.
Once upon a time, up there in the starry sky,
there was that round ball that you looked at and it looked
at you and you felt tiny, tiny, as if to say:
the universe is much vaster than any human ambition.
Even Neil Armstrong realized it when we, with mouths agape,
listened on worldwide TV to the emotion in his very American voice
of that small step that was so great for mankind,
Sting and The Police (Walking on the Moon) included.
Yes, the moon knocked and we answered.
Once upon a time there was a future that had not yet
been undermined by forecasts, statistics, algorithms, surveys,
that would have been nice to continue dreaming about
as we envisioned it and not as it became.
Often without hope, without a beauty that is becoming increasingly
rare, with very little poetry, at times too arrogant,
and with less and less humanity.
And so why not?
Why not spend Christmas on the Moon, with your imagination?
A retro-futurist Christmas that reminds us of the importance
of any good fairy tale with a happy ending.
To look at the world from a porthole and leave bad thoughts
in the Sea of Tranquility.
To rediscover from afar the secret of Christmas and its wonderful
uniqueness, of what has always made it so magical, so holy.
To rediscover ourselves, to remember who we are,
to continue dreaming, because it is true after all: dreams last forever.
And we will smile, howl, shout at the moon:
Merry Christmas to you too, old friend.