It feels as cold as the near-desert day was hot.
Yet the sky blazes with light
The darkness of blackness cannot blot:
Dots of white silver bright,
Each still and silent to my short sight.
With the prophet poets of old I myself again ask,
“How long, O Lord? How long?”
And then, at long last,
With speed comes the shout,
As stars suddenly startle with lightning:
“To God, Glory in the highest!
Upon earth, peace!
Among men, good will!”
As small as the star seen farthest in the firmament,
Into the village of David the prophet poet king,
Comes the Creator King of all
Large and small
In heaven and on earth:
Greater than galaxies,
The very Sun of Righteousness
Rising with healing in His wings!
“Let us go… and see….”
Luke 2: 8-18
(Photograph courtesy of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration of the United States of America.)