We, too, have followed a star.
Before Bethlehem, it lit the night in alien worlds,
resplendent, mattering much
to all those with eyes to see.
What ancient astrologers
tracked its course through their heavens,
and saw, in the infinite darkness, a sign
that turned the inside heavens upside down,
and moved old wisdom towards infant wonder?
Their journey is lost to us now.
Radio waves lap upon the rock,
but the scrolls are brittle,
and the bottles are sand.
The heralds of the mystery
have become what they proclaimed,
while the star they saw
shines weakly in humble cells.
Yet in this treasure chest I carry,
I can hear the faint echo of their footsteps,
and with each opening I can taste their sleepless joy,
as they cry yes,
yes, something good
will come of this.