The Christ

He laughs.
it is so human
and so much like God
to laugh
it is a lonely thing
to be merely human.

He loves the starlight
and the cool
of the pines
and the love
of a child
and He feels the mortality
of such things

I think Him sad
He who feels the trembling
of hearts
I see Him lonely
and young, against the starlight

He, incarnate
young and ancient
like the night air
like a word
hands like a stream
of petals and thorns
of wine and water
like the branches of some great Tree
in the Garden's heart
that had not been seen
since the day
of Man's exhile