A sky full of stars and the magi looking
eastward to an extraordinary flare
moving contrary to fixed patterns,
to all known predictions,
contrary to the nature of stars.
They follow it pell-mell –
blazing sun, freezing nights –
in a burdensome gallop,
destination unknown. It
doesn’t matter –
they are chasing the cosmic,
leaving behind the earth.
And the great mysteries of heaven
come down to greet them, those wise men,
to intermingle and lay on hands,
no longer ashen remnants,
distant trackers and observers
but burning, existential participants
in the ancient, great fires of creation.
O child of God, chase after truth;
let nothing stand in your way.
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