The star shone cold and clear,
winking on the desert plain.
Just another night. No special sight.
Shepherds, sheep . . . bed down to sleep.
Herod, covered by his palace and power,
his fear in his tower, pays no notice.
It’s a single star shining amidst an eternity.
Just another night. No special sight.
A king, a birth . . . but nothing of worth.
A thousand miles east, magi feast on the sky,
a scroll to the eye so versed.
The star sings the coronation of a king,
“Come and see! Come and see!”
The star still shines.
But to those trapped in their delights,
it’s just another night. No special sight.
Sellers, buyers . . . pursuing their desires.
So few hear the song
and come to see
the worth of the king
and love bound in broken flesh.
Such a wondrous night. A special sight.
Meekness, glory . . . wrapped in one story.
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