Who can regard the sun?
Its all-revealing rays
Dazzle the eyes of those
Who too directly gaze,
Yet when moisture charged the air
The sun, a soft red ball,
Muted, its glittering glaze
Rose in the winter dawn.
So, if we seek God’s face,
We cannot see it plain.
Its radiant holiness
Half-hidden must remain
Through sheer excess of light,
Yet in the winter dark
God came to you and me;
Our God in human form
For all the world to see.
Sheila Durbin
(Image: The Blood Red Sun, courtesy of flickr/The Future is Feline)
Reflection
Was Christmas a fantasy?
Did all the spending really happen?
Did the world rest in creation,
Did we understand?
Was it just a moment of insanity,
A festival of vanity?
Or in the deep unconscious
Did we remember
The first significant birth
That heralded redemption-
Before we destroyed the Earth.