Mortal flesh and bone,
the divine word comes unexpectedly among us,
breathing the planet’s atmosphere
and covering his itinerant feet
with earth’s red dust.
Here, in company
with the rest of humankind,
he will do his appointed work
of hope and love and freedom.

Later, this man we call “Light,”
clothed in the dust of ridicule and rejection,
(his words are too hard);
will steel himself against the harsh winds
of fickle opinion,
to inhale the deep and bitter air
of suspicion, abandonment and fear.
From there he will embrace the cold nothingness
of our own inevitable end.

And still the Light shines.

© Ken Rookes 2015


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