This falling star, a reborn son, A fated thread so sweetly spun. This sinking glimmer in the sky, A twinkle shed, a newborn's cry. An angel sighed. The sweet babe slept As divine mother gently wept. This tiny life, so precious still, A destiny to soon fulfill. Seasons change, winter to spring, While azure heavens softly sing, "This wide expanse, this hope, this chance." His boyhood was a sacred dance. The soil grew rich, the seeds were sewn, His fortune knew, the boy had grown. In brightest Summers of his youth, He found a love, his life, his truth. They danced amongst the rows of gold, Where dreams are threshed, where plans unfold, And gazing deeply into night, Beneath the moon, a star in flight.
- January 2016 -
Photo by Jean-Pierre Brungs