To Bring Earth Out of Darkness
The calendar's off. These are the days that signal the end of the year,
Of existence, dire times which might lead kings to set off with gifts,
In search of a savior. "Bring back the light and warmth," they would
Pray, kneeling in front of a bastard baby, who whimpers and suckles,
Not yet knowing words. They rise, somehow certain they've found
The right child, and, on their way home, they nod to each other.
The days have grown longer and warmer again.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 34 times
Written on 2024-12-20 at 00:16
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