Prologue

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