Licensed CC0/Public Domain.
Going down to the car
for a bottle of ginger ale.
Once outside, along
the redwood-lined sidewalk,
something about the night
inspires me to start singing
“O Come All Ye Faithful,”
and my little errand becomes
a solemn processional.
I emerge under
the sentinel stars.
As above, so below.
They and the song embody
the same mystery.
This night, the world
slows down and we
can feel such things;
yet isn’t it always so?
The depth of the sacred,
in which we are wrapped:
only the silence can say it.
Our most sublime music
is but a mirror of that.
