It was a silent night because there are no words.
Who could say its meaning? I once heard a song
that said for each child that’s born the morning star
sings a greeting, calling it by name. But on that night,
whole hosts of angels sang. You can hear
them still, in your heart, in the core of you,
if you listen. Their song is right there, beneath
your breath, pumping through your blood,
saying you belong to the Yes and are of it,
enveloped in its wondrous, infinite Love.
And all It asks is that you pass it on.
That’s its nature—to flow through
all creation, every speck of it,
even you, even me.
Pass it on.