Monday, November 28, 2005


This time of year,
Songs play in enemy's places,
Of a night divine, of Immanuel,
Of God with us.

Of the Father's love, and the Son's submission
In taking a dust-jacket of skin
And thus to subtract by addition.

Born of a woman, conceived by the Spirit,
Fourteen generations times three
Then He came,
All bloody and weak, and wholly divine.

I pray that
This ineffable love will amaze
Me this season.

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