Annunciation

I turn the pages of my memory, back through a thousand years,
I recall that dim and nebulous age,
When Darkness gave birth to the shining Light of all the spheres,
Receiving the Great Seed's heritage.

We were met by a flustered Mother's smile, so deep,
Who wiped her beautiful hands from the clay.
And upon her brow lay a seal, ancient and steep,
Of renouncement, and love, and parting's sway.

We did not know yet how the darkness would rave,
Deafened by the fiery, creating Word,
How kings and wanderers would enter the cave
To bow down to foundations they'd not heard.

How the beating of millions of hearts would merge and start,
Responding with echoes that roll and swell,
How the Son and the Father stand, taking their part,
Clad in a single armor, to serve and quell.

We had not yet seen the many wonders to be,
The unearthly, all-encompassing faith,
How the Crucified One would rise up, alive and free,
How the fanatics would mock Him to His death…

All this was still to come—later, but for now,
We stood in the garden and were still.
And the flowers bent down, and the river hushed its flow,
Hearing the Word of the initial Will.