A Christmas Poem

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

There is a star above us,

merely one of a million-million glories

that absorb our awed perception.

But it flowers on our soul’s horizon

like a new-made moon, or the

primal  dawn of Truth—a singularity 

we may abandon all to follow.

We may camp here, shivering at the

edge of our heart’s own minor galaxy—

huddled suddenly against a star-strewn

hillside, lambs curled silently around

our feet. We will be shepherded;

we will hear the unvoiced universe

burst open and regather, singing

out—a counterpoint, a psalming.

A compline. Oh, an ecstasy of angels!