The Child, across the waters, lost to the sea and history—

His Bones, through forest as you followed, slunk in shadow, stalking—

The Girl and all lost daughters whom you stole fast away from her—

The Boy and innocence lost and all the rivers running red—

Love, up the muddy mountain, having faced terrors on the way—

Our Lord, teacher, mystic, man, his sacred teachings tossed aside—

Sorrow, to the cave, through the days when only angels fed her—

Letters, bound for Ephesus, before they hit her on the head—

A Promise, made and then forgotten, of things we came to do—

Their Mission, through ages, spilling out like stars in disarray—

Hope, a flower looking for her home, imprisoned in your heart—

Your Face, in dreams a rolling head, and true things you never said—