Cradle ~
There is a
cradle in the snow,
that rocks
itself, divinely gentle,
nourishment
for its babe,
who rests
within the folds of,
unexpected
stories, told,
only in the
days of old,
when Jesus
walked in yards of light,
which fell
in glistening sashes.
The baby
rocks, in loving bows,
and lifts a
hand upon its chest,
while
stories of love pour without,
whispering
the songs
of love,
begging the ears, sweet and tender,
to
understand man's mistake,
to forgive
those who'd made it suffer,
and the
oldest song-
that which
is the most complicated for all of us to understand,
is taken to
the heart and mind,
of this
little babe,
who floats
away from this difficult life,
soft and tranquil . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment