The Word became flesh and lived
among us, body as bright as
shrapnel, love sharp as winter
spurs. I saw the light through
a glass darkly, heard whispers
of stars crackling in His breath.
There were nights the sky purled
with the ache of His absence,
and mornings where dawn tasted
like a wound, a holy balm in
every heartbeat. I watched Him
kneel, fingers tracing earth\'s
pulse, each touch a hymn, each
sigh a psalm. How can this be,
bones holding galaxies, veins
filled with echoes of ancient
prayers? He wore our humanity
like a threadbare cloak, stitching
our brokenness into His soul’s fabric. In His eyes, the hunger
of a thousand lifetimes, the
thirst of an endless desert.
He carried the cross of our
longing, each step a testament
to grace unfathomable, mercy
incarnate. In Him, we were made
whole, fragments fused by divine
hands into something radiant,
something eternal. The Word
became flesh and we trembled.