Being Itself

Being itself, boundless beyond all form
Without any essence, soundless speaks
Across the chaos of the raging waves
Bringing every being out of nothing.

Beauty itself, incomprehensible
Is silent yet the most melodic music
Encompassing the hues of every color
A blinding vision of beatitude.

Moving all things but yet forever still.
Seeing all things, seeing only itself.
A single thought, begotten eternally
A single Word, an ever uttered present.

But then that Word eternal and timeless
Had entered into time and pitched His tent
And taken flesh to dwell among mankind
The Word which spoke creation into being

Is silent, then feels the crack of arid wind
He cries, and senses his mother’s soft caress
Her sweet voice whispering a simple song
Her warm breath, her lips pressed against his head.

As moist hay crunches under animal hoof
A stale sty aroma rises to Him
Squealing, for a moment unintelligible
Craving the thick taste of warm milk.

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