Cradle

 

Cradle ~

 

There is a cradle in the snow,

that rocks itself, in sweet divinely gentle,

nourishment for the baby,

who rests within the folds of many,

unexpected stories, told,

only in the days of old,

when Jesus walked in yards of white light,

which fell in glistening ribbons from the Heavens.

 

The baby rocks, within its cradle,

and lifts a hand upon its chest to settle,

while stories of love pour through its breast,

whispering the songs of forgiveness,

begging the young ears, sweet and tender,

to understand man's error,

to forgive those who'd made it suffer,

and the oldest song of man,

that which is the most complicated for all of us to understand,

is taken to the heart and mind,

of this little babe,

who floats away from this difficult life,

completely tranquil . . .