Advent 8

I am the story of a different time,
A beginning time,
A birthing time,
A time when all was dark.
A time when all was possible.
A time when all was not.
A time when all could be.
A time when all was energy.
A time when all was love.
In this time began.
A word began to whisper,
A light began to spark,
A breath began to flow,
A sphere began to spin,
A world began to form,
A life began to beat,
And it was good.

It was then that I began to dream,
And the story wrote itself.
I saw the waters flood the land,
I saw the land fight back,
I saw it rise and split and move,
I saw it burst with fire and flame,
I saw it twist and crack and tear,
I saw it crumble and form rich earth,
And from those seas and in that soil,
I felt the beat of simple hearts,
I felt the first life jump and dance,
I felt it swim and fly and run,
I felt it all,
And it was good.

And then I saw it rot and mould,
As greed and power and death,
Took over from the waters,
And flooded out to drown the land.
And as I saw, I cried.
I saw it stir and raise its head,
I saw it spit and spew and shit,
It fouled its way through everything.
And I felt it.

I felt the pain of the innocent.
I felt the cry of the abused.
I felt the ache of the grieving,
I felt the sob of the lonely,
I felt hunger of the just,
I felt the loneliness of the lovers,
And it was agony.

I felt the pain as they turned on me.
They blamed me and I felt their shame.
But in the night they knew,
They knew what they had lost,
And in the night they cried.
And some could not hold back the tears when the dawn had come.
Hope lived, its roots were deep.
And so I’m here.


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