The Star On The Shelf
He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names. Psalm 147:4
He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names. Psalm 147:4
The celestial warehouse, full, with no room to stand,
Throbbed
with Red Giants, cool dwarfs, and even some twins.
Then the
doors rolled open; and in came His hand.
It was now
Day Four, since it all started to begin.
Super and
Magnus trashed and dissed who’d be last.
But His hand
surely, quickly flung them out into space.
Into the
darkness they all were exploded so fast,
Foreshadowing
a day, called “the Fourth” by their race.
But, back in
the warehouse on the shelf all alone,
Sat one
little star with troubled confusion on his face.
Did He
forget?! I could only wonder, “what have
I done?”
Why am I
here, still, and not in my proper place?!
In
confusion, I sat there, alone, forever it would seem.
I watched as
He calmly, yet grandly continued his plan.
On one
little rock, He spoke, the waters with fish did teem.
And in the
sky all around it swarms and flocks did expand!
After night,
when the stars all slept, came the next day.
He then filled
the “Earth” with the beasts He did make.
Then He
carefully took in His hands, a dab of the clay;
He lovingly
formed a little “man” and breathed it awake!
The wicked
little things, in the light of my brothers,
Sometimes,
even they’d dare in the light of the “Sun”
They’d sneak
about, and do awful things to others.
They’d
boldly rebel, forgetting, ignoring the ONE!
Sometimes I
would sense Him looking at me.
Then He’d
look at the “Earth” with pain on His face.
Why was I
sitting on the shelf with no better place to be?
Why did He
endure the pain created by that race?
Off that
shelf, with His hand He retrieved me nigh.
And in my
ear He whispered, “it’s time; off you go!”
Though all
the heavens surely wondered, “why?!”
“You now
must go, and in your place must glow!”
All the
others looked on with confused perplexity.
“What is he
doing? He’s going super-nova, maybe?!”
But I was
determined that no eye would miss me.
Maybe the
wise would then look for the Baby!
I had my
moment, my place, to shine upon Him!
But, He is
the Light, for all darkness the cure.
For but a
brief moment, I shined over Bethlehem.
But, can you
see the Light? Can you feel the allure?
The angels
are singing; the stars still yet declare,
Always, as
in that first noel, “gloria, in excelsis deo”
Come find
the peace, the grace in His heart so fair.
Be as the
wise men; To the Light you must go!
* * * * * *
* *
I’m sure that you’re aware, by now, full
well.
Rhythm and rhyme, the evade me. Do tell!
I’m no poet; and of this I surely know it.
Off the shelf, from my heart, the Light
shines a bit?
Merry
Christmas!
