he may have made the starry skies
but he lay there totally defenseless
in manger full of hay.
he may have seen satan fall from heaven
but now only the grudging kindness
of a busy innkeeper sheltered him from
the evil of casual evil of indifference.
a winter census, asking people to travel
leagues and leagues in the cold and wet
well it was something some bureaucrat
in Rome, safe in his villa, sure of his
pay and pension, would dream up
but in the warmth of the stable with
his mother near the baby gave no
thought to empire or imperial lackeys.
in days to come
they would find him inconvenient
he would look at them with compassion, they would build him a cross
he would ascend his throne
they would wash their hands of him
he would beg forgiveness for them:
two millennia on his name would be sung
while theirs had been forgotten.
all that was in days to come
this night the infant king was content to rule his manger and
to sleep
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