This orb that drew us far across the ancient dark,
whose radiance was, at times, a comfort,
other times, it seemed, a mocking challenge,
endless burden, a lure that led us on toward despair,
destruction, dreary death;
this celestial beam of light that “came to rest” —
no other way to put it —
where the golden god-child lay,
has never since departed.
It’s burning,
after flaming forth at last about the feed box,
has now moved within,
and lit a blaze deep in these creaking bones
will not burn out until all darkness kneels and wonders.
— J. Barrie Shepherd
