Before there was a Christmas,
before there was a star of Bethlehem
or three wise men even
there were winters
cold and deep,
and those who gathered round a warming fire
where stories were told that some would swear
were true, while others, knowing fact from fiction
began to suspect the need for stories on nights so deep.
For from the embers born of dwindling fires,
metaphor appeared to those who lingered
long after others had gone,
and those inclined to prod embers
for the mysteries they hold
pondered the tendrils of ash & smoke
curling skyward toward a star-filled night
signaling mysteries embedded in the infinite
where only those with eyes to see them
dared ponder their meaning.
Was this the origin of the wise men?
Did they pick up sticks and stir those embers,
letting loose a spark that gave life to metaphor, which,
in its wisdom, wrapped itself around their curiosity
and said
here, a puzzle
from me to you
one never meant to solve
but to embrace, as one embraces
the unknown
in the deepest cold of winter
where stars give just enough light
to guide us,
to bring us all together
around warming fires
so we can hold hands,
tell stories,
and not feel so alone
on this great big spinning rock.
©Adrienne Veronese
