Star
It
Is
Afar
The
Herald
That it brings
Unequaled
For the king of kings
The son of God
And foretold son of man
Is now besought
In a hovel, born in Bethlehem
He will heal the sick
And give life to the living and dead
He wills to pick deaths crown
From our heads coronating us in righteousness
Bearing the thorns upon himself
To a death on a tree, that beneath our tree we can share this gift
We follow, He whom death could only borrow
The broken
Find healing
So wise men
Still seek Him
To understand
God's gift to man

The separations between
time & space
grow a little bigger,
the further I am
from your
face.

Relativity,
lost
with no trace.

everything you do
drips with grace

love bearing no exclusivity
it cannot be
misplaced
Souls intertwined
leaving
little
space
for things
I once called
mine
caught in your arms
there is no race.

Remind me again
where we are...

What is time?
What is space?