Wednesday, December 25, 2013

From me to you - a Christmas offering

(from "Two Sonnets for Two Seasons")

Coming forth, as babies do, in blood

and water (trembling mother, father numb)

the newborn cried.

                              His father laughed and nudged

a stupid bull aside to make him room.

And as the wind carried that faintful cry

a lion knelt, and slept with steady gaze;

an eagle halted in midflight, flew higher

and paused to peer into the solar blaze.

The cry diminished, faded, filtered through

the skin of space and time, and then (a mere

whisper) resounded, echoed, grew into

a martial thunder in demonic ears;

and Hell, the native nest of fury, pride

and boredom, first learned terror

                                                    when He cried.
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