Gen The First Christmas Poem by Mill Field

The first Christmas
Was a spiritual big bang
The beginnings of which being swathed in mystery,
The implications of which we are still trying to resolve.

Two thousand and more years
Down the space-time continuum,
What may yet be gathered from that event
Of child, stable, angels, shepherds, wise-men and offerings?

That love is always vulnerable, perhaps,
That reconciliation is ever at the heart of love.

And offerings, what have we to offer?
Small gifts indeed, if such they be,
Of joy, of sorrow and of hopes.

But let us echo as then was sung:

Glory to God!
Peace on earth!
Goodwill to all!