A Two Part Poem

The Birth

The womb is darkness

The blackest of night.
But here in this ethereal void
something springs forth from nothing.

Visible from the unexisting,

Dawning from the pitch.
The seed of light implanted.
The hope of life takes form.

Something new is beginning.

A creation never before seen,
but all seeing eyes
and stars alone observe it.

Soon, the waters part

and new life emerges,
a baptism of earth and sky reborn,
as up from the watery grave the clay arises.

To windows still draped

in heavy sleep, no sun yet shines.
But the winds soon stir & the light gives life
as face to face clay and Creator collide.

An exchange of atmospheres is made -

one breath to another, one soul spilled forth for man -
until at last, the lifeless clay gasps it's infant breath,
filling up the lungs with heavens winds.
 
The new birth has come.

All is light and breath and life

as dawn to dawn circles on and on,
each day a glorious unveiling
of eyes brand new.
 

But subtle shadows catch the eye

and the gaze is lost and drawn away.
First a crack, then a break, and soon
the clay is shattered.

The shades are drawn,

shutting out the Life giving rays.
But the Light is not threatened by shadows
and plants his seed, hiding it in the clay.
 

The new birth will come.

The womb is darkness.

The blackest of night.
The prophets tell only silence.
The minstrel's songs, but a dirge.

Here in the valley of the shadow

a reeling, groaning creation
swallows hopelessness
as its daily bread.

But here in this terrestrial void

something is birthing from nothing.
The tangible from the dream.
The approachable from the eternal.

The Seed is planted.

The hope of Life takes form
but a virgin and a woodworker
alone observe it.

Wearing clay as His garments

the Light of creation dawns.
The waters part and the clay arises,
a baptism of heaven and earth reborn.

An exchange of atmospheres is made -

heaven exhales and infant breath
fills up the lungs of the
Uncreated Creation.

The new birth has come.

The Rebirth

The womb is darkness,

The blackest of night.
But here among muddied water & camel’s hair,
Something springs forth from nothing.

The dawning of a new day has come

As created immerses the Creator,
streams washing over the Living Water
As into the void the Light is plunged.

Soon, the waters part
and the sky mirrors the wonder,
approval shattering the silence,
as up from the watery grave the clay arises.

To a world still encumbered

by heavy commandments, no hope yet shines.
But the burden is lifted as the Light gives life
As each day, face to face clay and Creator collide.

But ancient shadows catch the eye

And plots are drawn to shut the shade.
First a whip, then a beam, until finally,
The clay is suspended between earth and heaven.

An exchange of atmospheres is made -

one breath for another, one soul spilled forth for man -
until at last, the battered clay gasps it's final breath,
emptying the lungs of heavens winds.

The New birth will never come.

All is dark and void and dead

as dawn to dawn circles thrice.
The shades are drawn and hope is lost -
creation sinks once more into the Valley of the Shadow.

But the creeping rays of dawn reveal
That the seed of Light has sprouted.
First a nail, then a shroud, and now
Death is shattered.
 

Wearing victory as His garments

the Light of creation dawns.
The stone, it parts and the clay arises,
a baptism of Heaven and earth reborn.

The new birth has come.

The womb is darkness

The blackest of night.
But here in this hallow vessel
something springs forth in nothing.

Eternal in the limited
Divinity in the clay.
The seed of light implanted.
The hope of life takes form.

Something new is beginning.

A creation never before seen,
but all seeing eyes
and saints alone observe it.

To windows still draped

in heavy sleep, the Light is not comprehended.
But to the one now stirred, the light gives life
as heart to heart clay and Creator collide.

First comes faith then comes sight

and soon, the waters part.
New life emerges as
up from the mortal grave the clay arises.

An exchange of atmospheres is made –

Holy breath into another, one soul spilled forth for man.
The recreated clay inhales its first eternal breath,
filling up the soul with heavens winds.

The new birth has come.