Speaking soft words to the quiet dark
I attempt to meditate upon tomorrow
But find only a loneliness
Bleaker than the arctic wastes.
If I were a wise king searching for enlightenment
I do not think that I would trust
A weirdly dazzling eastern star
That illuminates a small cave in war torn Bethlehem.
But I would listen to my inner voice
As I hovered on the edge of sleep
And therefore imagine it said in dreams
That miracles always lead to trouble.
But when curiosity has forced me awake
It seems that I might outface my loneliness,
Pack my bags in the freezing dark
And set out to study that star,
But understand this, this would be for science,
Certainly not to discover a Saviour;
I can never guess answers before I set out,
And always doubt what I see.
Yes, I admit, the others were right,
They trusted their instincts and did not look back:
I am still on that journey, so it now seems,
But its not in my power to confirm this in speech.
Yet when I sit silent in the quiet dark,
What I dare not understand begins to make sense.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter,
December 21st. 2022.
According to some ancient legends twelve Wise Kings set out to follow the star, but only three made it to the Bethlehem stable to offer their gifts to Jesus. I identify here with King No. 4 because he had many doubts and yet had a modicum of faith.
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