The Christmas Present …

A holy child
is sleeping;
born beneath
an eastern star ;
the promised one,
the saviour,
The Messiah.

No silken canopies
enfold this royal cradle;
no rich accoutrements
adorn His birthplace –
in this lowly stable

where he lies –
the King of Kings –
in his mother’s arms.
She is weeping ..

Does she visualise
a crown of thorns
above his infant face
for our redemption –
And His gift of love
and grace;
her  Son’s sacrifice ? ….

About atomsofstars

Reticent .. but I hope my poetry speaks for me .. Favourite quotation .. ' Uttering a word is like striking a note on the keyboard of the imagination.' Ludwig Wittgenstein
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