How silent that arena, unlit space,
The waters swirling, boundless, without form.
Each shapeless mass still waiting for its face,
Suspended life, the calm before the storm.
When suddenly a Voice above was heard--
To animate the void with just His Word.

That Word made Matter, Space, Duration, Light,
And yet we knew within that substance dwelt
Immortal Wisdom, barely veiled from sight
Right there, encountered, tasted, heard, and felt.
A Holy God made manifest to all
By shrouding Glory in an earthly shawl.

Eternity embodied, set in time,
Enclosed in carbon, dust, in flesh and blood,
Each consonant now striking measured chime
To halt the vowel, staunch its endless flood.
God’s amaranthine thought seized by the host
Of endings and beginnings, least and most.

Long after that first Word wound up the clock
Long after grand Infinity was bound
In casing corporeal, God took stock,
And once again, from Heaven came a Sound:
Another Word to demonstrate His love,
The Son: incarnate Wisdom from above.

Thus age-old Truth, once cloaked in mystery
--Creation’s fixed ontology, well-known--
Could teach the Father’s plan for history
Within a mortal frame just like our own.
A Translator to speak so we could hear--
The Word, told in our mother-tongue, now clear.

Today that story’s told in pages worn,
The message free for those with ears to hear,
Of both the times Infinitude was born,
Once in our cosmos, once our human peer.
And I have held that Word within my hand,
And read, and learned, and come to understand.