A poem on the incarnation
So thought it only fitting to leave you with a Christmas poem. I got this from here, where it was given the tag line "A sublime meditation on the Incarnation" (I'm not so sure about that, and I figure there are a few different ways to understand that idea) via here.
Human Beauty
by Albert Goldbarth
If you write a poem about love ...
the love is a bird,
the poem is an origami bird.
If you write a poem about death ...
the death is a terrible fire,
the poem is an offering of paper cutout flames
you feed to the fire.
We can see, in these, the space between
our gestures and the power they address
—an insufficiency. And yet a kind of beauty,
a distinctly human beauty. When a winter storm
from out of nowhere hit New York one night
in 1892, the crew at a theater was caught
unloading props: a box
of paper snow for the Christmas scene got dropped
and broken open, and that flash of white
confetti was lost
inside what it was a praise of.
Picture from here.