The Light with whom existence is shot through...

The Light with whom existence is shot through

Stands in the night of our exile and death,

Amid the bloody aching mess of birth,

All that went wrong, that's left, and still might be.

In Mary's arms, in Cain and Abel's stead,

Creator into His creation breaks,

Becoming creature, scandal, strange,

Sharing in sister's grief, called brother forth,

Bearing Adam's thorns, hung on a tree.

And with wheezing thieves beside,

Pulls up to breathe against the spikes.


Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris


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