I don’t know how you dealt  with clouded nights
or languishing days,
how long you paused before you even
began to pack or give thought to presents. 
Who was first to bring it up: 
the unlikely journey and unlikelier child? 

I can guess why you stopped at the seat of power, 
presuming an answer before the question was asked. 
And that was when it really began, wasn’t it? 

Those last two nights beneath the star, 
haunted by dreams and pursued by your own hubris, 
assuming that God’s throne was built by proud men 
rather than chosen from the caverns of the earth, 
formed by divine hands at creation. 

By the time you reached the star-struck place 
you were ready to crawl in on bended knees 
and babble your praises like a newborn; 
for the foolishness of God’s incarnation 
was wiser than you or I ever could imagine.

Matthew 2:1-18; 1 Corinthians 1:25-29; Psalm 95:4-5
Image: Adoration of the Magi, Konrad Laib, early 1400s, photographed at the Cleveland Museum of Art (detail)