Sandalled feet warmed by the dry earth,
olive wood aromas fill the air,
memories reach out to me from afar.
Time with my Father, learning my trade
absorbing his stories.
Bitter sweet memories, I lift him to God.

The smell of hot bread surrounds me,
mixed with the sounds of hard work
I see  mother and sisters grinding wheat
The daily grind feeding the sweet aroma
Hints of suffering before Glory.
Behold, my Mother and my sisters

Stories of long ago on a cold winter's night.
Angels and visitors from afar,
an angelic prophecy, a future of Glory -
Simeon, the seer, a sword to the heart
Anguished faces when I went missing
Father, I lift these traces to you.

Why am I here?   Why do I call you Abba?
Am I losing my mind?
Blasphemer, Crazy Man - I can hear the cries
and I walk away from the Temple;
away from a career with the scholars
to the wilderness, to a river, to a rebel.

Cold waters close over me,
Sound ceases, time slows, slows
then upwards, ever upwards; I breathe again
Into the light, Into THE light.
I know who I am.
The beloved Son - Immanuel!

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