A Poem for Epiphany

Drawn by star light

we followed the lowly

to this long last death and birth day.

Moon and Sun. Mother and Child, we see.

Old eyes orb, stars in clouds of camel breath.

“These treasures will mean most,” we said, setting out,

yet give Him each a pearl pulled

from lapis skies of the soul

and leave hidden like orphans

in a throng of the village poor.

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